


Awaken Me

by FadedLily



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/F, I have no idea what I'm doing, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Light Angst, New York City, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 75,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedLily/pseuds/FadedLily
Summary: Therese is a 27-year-old aspiring graphic designer living in NYC. She is still a bit lost, trying to deal with her cloudy career path and string of failed relationships. She begins to wonder whether this is the most exciting her life will get. Enter Carol, a 36-year-old divorcee with secrets of her own. This will be a slooooow burn, but I will undoubtedly get to some smut in later chapters.





	1. Stir

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All! This is my first fanfic, so I am definitely looking for as much feedback as possible. I never imagined being someone who writes fanfic, but this book and movie just struck a chord in my little gay heart and I was so impressed by how beautiful and emotionally accurate it is in depicting what it feels like to fall in love with a woman. I hope you all enjoy.

_Don’t know why I have to go_  
 _Don’t know why I can’t stay_  
 _Guess I want to be alone_  
 _And I guess I need to be amazed_  
-Fleetwood Mac

 

“Good Morning!”

A young man with neatly combed hair and impeccably straight, white teeth smiled and nodded deferentially at Therese as she walked by the reception desk of the apartment building. She smiled and said a soft “Morning”.

As she was walking out the door, she looked back to see a middle-aged woman in a perfectly pressed, bright pink pantsuit picking up a small, fluffy, sweater-clad dog. As Therese held the door open for her, the woman smiled and said, “Thank you. His feet get so cold on the sidewalk!”

It was only October, and the weather was mild. Do these people know they are walking stereotypes of Madison Avenue? She was shocked that the building’s staff didn’t throw her out every time she came out of the elevator wearing her jeans and one of her many worn pullover sweaters. She was staying with her friend Noelle and her boyfriend Dylan. Therese had met Noelle at NYU, and they somehow became close friends despite their vastly different personalities. Noelle grew up in San Francisco and her parents were professors at UC Berkeley. She spent her formative years submerged in a world of academic exploration, diversity, and constant interaction with open-minded, artistically inclined people. Therese grew up outside Albany with her single mother, working since the age of fourteen and praying she would one day move to the city and see, feel, and experience something more. Her and her mother lived comfortably, but Therese wasn’t used to having any sort of luxuries. That’s why she was so surprised and even a bit put off by the lavishness of Noelle and Dylan’s Madison Avenue apartment.

Noelle and Dylan looked like misfits in the building as well. Both had tattoos and wore the sort of hipster clothes you would expect to see in Brooklyn. When they had moved into this apartment, Therese was stunned by the surroundings and the fact that they had chosen something so… traditional. While Therese had pursued studio art and graphic design in college, she was shocked to learn shortly after they met that tattooed, hard partying Noelle was a computer science major. Her and Dylan had met working at a tech startup and were making the sort of money Therese doubted she would ever make in her life.

Therese had broken up with her girlfriend of five months just a week ago, and constantly cursed her decision to move in with this girl after two months despite her borderline indifference towards her. She had a habit of going along with what the other girl wanted in all of her short, lukewarm “relationships” with the women she had met since moving to the city. The only reason she still considered herself gay – or really any kind of sexual being – was the fact that she had fallen hard for one of her friends in high school. Therese was only a sophomore while her friend was a senior. They had played lacrosse together and within weeks Therese found herself seeking her out at practice, exchanging smiles and conversations that made Therese inexplicably nervous. They shared many intimate moments, coming dangerously close to kissing during their numerous sleepovers and unnecessarily long rides around town on weekend nights. The girl went off to college in the fall, and whatever was between them faded out before Therese even realized what she had felt.

Therese hadn’t felt the sort of excitement, the sort of passion that comes from merely laying next to someone who makes your heart pound and your skin feel simultaneously frozen and radiating heat since then. At 27, she had expected to be in a long-term relationship by now. Sure, she enjoyed the occasional good sex, but she could never get herself to feel something even close to that whole-body excitement and emotional roulette that comes with being hopelessly enamored with someone new. She almost wished she had never experienced it so she could settle for decent sex and a reasonably smart girl without knowing any better. Despite her kind nature, Therese often ended up being the heartbreaker in every relationship due to her indifference and lack of commitment. She thought moving in with her last girlfriend might spark a feeling, but she remained as tepid as ever and finally decided to break it off.

Noelle and Dylan had insisted she stay with them, especially since they would be heading out to LA for six weeks for work and could use the help from Therese to take care of the apartment and their two cats. Therese was grateful, but felt incredibly out of place and worried she wouldn’t find another place to live by the time they returned. They still weren’t leaving for another few days, which was perfect since Therese was still figuring out the quickest way to work from the apartment and how to work their space-age espresso machine.

That night, once Therese got home from her job hostessing at the Italian place on Lexington, she packed up her camera and portfolio to head downtown. One of her classmates at NYU had started a makeshift photography business, and she sometimes asked Therese to help her shoot weddings and family portraits. Therese had taken a few photography classes in college, but she really wanted to be doing graphic design. Her mind needed both order and creativity, and her artistically inclined mind mixed with her meticulous attention to detail made it a perfect avenue for her – or at least she thought so. She had had no luck getting a foot in the door in any environment that may have the possibility of developing into a related opportunity. Helping her friend photograph children for Christmas cards and naked pregnant bellies was not exactly her idea of creativity. However, she needed any cash she could get at the moment, and did enjoy employing her quiet observational skills looking for great shots and candid moments.

She walked into the apartment building at almost 9pm, fumbling with everything she was carrying. She went to pull the keycard Dylan had given her out of her pocket, but realized she didn’t have it. She knocked on the glass doors, praying the doorman would let her in. She could see him standing at the desk, talking to a woman gesturing with her hands. He managed to push the button at the desk to unlock the door for Therese, but as she awkwardly pushed through the threshold she realized she would need a keycard to open the elevator as well. She walked up to stand behind the talking woman, and finally took a moment to breathe and look around. The sound of the woman’s voice pulled her attention back to their conversation.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else? I am expecting some mail that may not fit into my mailbox.”

Her voice was low, but somehow incredibly feminine. The woman was assertive and confident, but her slightly raspy voice held space – space for breaths and pauses; space for Therese’s own thoughts to fill them. It was simultaneously calming and invigorating.

She glanced at the woman’s clothes and was suddenly transfixed. Her slim midsection and delicate, light colored bra was visible through the back of a sheer cream blouse that tucked into a pair of high-waisted, navy blue pants that hugged her ass and created an impossibly long line from her waist to her just barely visible cream heels. Her blonde hair was carefully styled into a few light, perfectly smooth waves. Therese’s eyes returned to her perfectly round ass, and she imagined reaching out her hand to touch it when suddenly the beautiful ass started to move.

Therese was shaken out of her creepy reverie as the woman walked away towards the elevator. She silently willed the woman to turn around so that Therese could see what she looked like. She never turned, instead disappearing around the corner to go up to one of the 24 floors, and Therese suddenly wished desperately to know which one.


	2. Wet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see this goddess's face.

Therese woke up the next morning to an overcast sky and a scratchy throat that even a full glass of water seemed to have no effect on.  Getting sick was not an option, especially since she had two days off in a row and was going to devote some time to working on her portfolio. She had recently created the logo for her friend Sarah’s photography venture, and although it had already been in use for months, she still found herself refining it. She would even start from scratch on new designs, despite the fact that Sarah had already put it on her website and business cards. Therese said nothing about it, knowing she would be embarrassed if Sarah found out that she still worked on it simply because she had nothing else to do.

 

She had spent years becoming one with Photoshop and Illustrator, but she still loved drawing freehand and creating designs by eye. She found that her steady hands allowed her to sketch even, smooth text and lifelike figures and graphics without digital guidance. It allowed her to remain unhindered by the long connection from her brain, through keyboard and trackpad, and onto a computer screen. When she drew with her pen, the lines poured out of her as if they were an extension of her arteries, flowing ink out her fingertips as ideas and feedback from her eyes flowed back up her veins to her brain. It was a self-sustaining cycle, and this was the only way she truly experienced the flow that had drawn her to design. Despite this (much like her reluctance to give up physical books, even though it would be so much simpler to use a Kindle on the subway), she forced herself to become somewhat of an expert on design software, as the professors in grad school took every opportunity to perseverate on the fact that design was moving the way of all other things, and one needed to let the inevitable effect of technology pervade the artistic space. It was all about “marketable skills”. She wondered if her reluctance to embrace this change somehow sent bad vibes into the universe – she always showed her digital work first whenever she had the chance to show it to someone who may be able to offer her an opportunity, but perhaps they could sense that her heart wasn’t in it.

 

This morning, she had planned a meeting with her former graduate school advisor, Dr. Springer. He was always encouraging, but he didn’t hesitate to be critical of Therese’s work when he felt she wasn’t pushing herself enough. Therese was fairly even-keeled in most things and willing to go with the flow, which she knew made her look shy or unsure of herself at times. But when she was passionate about something, she had no qualms about asserting herself or even arguing in order to get at a deeper truth or understanding. Oftentimes Dr. Springer would give Therese praise, but there were times when he would look at something and simply say a curt “Hm”. Therese knew that “Hm” meant that something wasn’t right. He would casually ask her why she had made certain choices, or why she didn’t follow through with an idea from one of her previous drafts. She would think, then end up explaining her choices in detail. This often led to her coming up with new ideas as she thought out loud. She had enough basic knowledge of psychology to see what Dr. Springer was doing, forcing her to think deeper on a project he saw potential for, but she still played into it every time she heard that “Hm” because she knew it would lead her into a better version of her design.

 

She showed him a few of her latest pieces. One was a possible replacement for the somewhat crude logo being used at the company Noelle and Dylan worked for. Because the startup had blossomed so quickly, things like logos and other methods of brand recognition had fallen by the wayside until they had more time. Noelle had convinced the “CEO” (a 31-year-old avid bicyclist who always came into their storefront office space at 10am wearing workout gear and his Vibram FiveFingers that he insisted improved his posture) to allow Therese to work on a design for the storefront window and letterhead. She was thrilled to do it, and spent an inordinate amount of time working on it.

 

Dr. Springer looked down his nose through his wire glasses, holding the edges of one of Therese’s drawings down firmly on his desk. Therese just waited, looking around at the racks of portfolios and seemingly random selection of artwork adorning the walls. She returned her attention to her mentor, who was still staring motionlessly down at her drawing. She studied the hair on top of his head, noticing that the gray still hid some darker brown. Amused, she imagined herself with gray hair still toting her portfolio around town, begging someone to hire her at 65. She always pushed the idea of getting older out of her mind, fearing the feelings that might come up if she allowed herself to think about her thus far directionless life. She had assumed that a track would lay itself out before her at some point – she would find a job, meet a woman, get married – but as each year passed, she felt no more sure of where she was going. Instead, she started to accept what she always knew in the back of her mind was true – that she wouldn’t wake up one day as an “adult” and just know what to do. This was it. And that fact was terrifying.

 

“Therese, they’re fantastic.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He sighed and sat down at his desk.

 

“So. Any leads on a permanent position?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Did you call Ed Shawmut at Innova?”

 

“Yeah, they didn’t have anything permanent but they had some contract work. I did it. I think it was good, but they only needed that one project done.” She glanced away. “I don’t even know what to do anymore. Doing contract work and freelancing prevents me from getting another full-time job. Maybe if I let it lay a little, I can get a full-time waitressing job at the restaurant and try to draw in my spare time.”

 

“I understand your frustration. But I want you to know that the problem is not that you’re not talented enough. The problem is that the market is saturated, and as with almost everything, networking is usually what ends up getting you your first real position. I have a few other contacts that I’ll call. I just don’t want you to lose sight of this and let this transition period separate you from your drawing. All it takes is the right contact, and you’re in. You might start at the bottom, but once you’ve opened the door, I know your talent will do the rest.”

 

Therese just looked at him. She wanted to cry. His praise was appreciated, but she almost hoped he would have just thrown his hands up and told her to go find a more realistic job. She realized then that what she really wanted was his permission to let go of this dream, to tell her that she could stop agonizing over it.

 

She decided not to share that thought.

 

“Thanks. Anyway, I’ll let you be. And thanks for looking at these.”

 

She picked up the drawings and tapped their edges on the desk so that they aligned perfectly before sliding them carefully into her portfolio, folding over the flap to press down the velcro strips that she knew were already worn out and filled with lint anyway, their usefulness long since gone.

 

“Don’t give up, Therese. And I know I ask you every time, but let me know if you want to TA for my Intro class. Meeting new people with new ideas can be superb inspiration.”

 

Therese smiled. She never took him up on this offer, since she had always preferred to work alone, and often stopped working even when Noelle used to barge into her dorm room and flop onto her bed. Her process was deeply private, and she often felt she couldn’t think freely if someone was watching her.

 

She walked out onto the street into pouring rain, remembering the cover of clouds from this morning and wondering how the thought of rain had never for a moment crossed her mind when she left the house without a coat or umbrella. To make matters worse, she had picked up one of Sarah’s bigger cameras from her apartment, as she had promised to drop it off to her at an event uptown later that night.

 

She stepped out the door while trying to hide the camera under the front of her sweater, creating an awkward shape that exposed her midriff to the rain. The camera was in a case, but it was made of fabric and the rain was pouring. As she made her way toward the nearest subway station, she was periodically covered by awnings, but they provided only short reprieves from the driving rain. She came to an alleyway, and as she looked left to make sure nothing was going to come flying out of it, she stepped obliviously into a two foot wide pothole filled with water. She dropped the portfolio and it landed almost perfectly upright for a moment, like paper balanced on its razor-thin edge, then fell flat with the entire left side of the portfolio slapping down onto the surface of the filthy water.

 

“Fuck!” Therese yelled, noticing a man walking by glance at what had just happened. She leaned down to pick up the portfolio and hold it away from her body to let it drip as she ran towards the subway. When she finally got on the train, she immediately found a seat between an elderly woman wearing a plastic rain cap and a young guy who looked like he was stoned out of his mind. She opened the flimsy portfolio to pull out her drawings. Luckily, only one corner of the drawings had gotten wet, but she didn’t want to put them back into the wet portfolio so she rolled them loosely and tried to cradle them in her arms as she got off the train, running the four blocks to the apartment building. She wished at moments like these that she didn’t have to rely on public transportation. Or that she could afford cab fare.

 

When she finally arrived inside (she had remembered the keycard this time), she squeaked in her wet flats all the way across the tiled lobby to the elevator. Luckily, there was no one inside and she started to rearrange her belongings so she could unroll the drawings. She pressed the button for the 17th floor, then sighed and closed her eyes for a moment as the doors closed. She heard a ding and looked up to see a long, slender, manicured hand grip the edge of the elevator door just as it was about to close. She was curious about who would dare stick their hand – not even their arm – into a closing elevator door that had about two inches until it shut.

 

A woman – _that_ woman – from the front desk walked in, turned her body to press the “12” button, and passed Therese to stand diagonally behind her. Therese felt that it was slightly odd that the woman had purposely passed her to stand in the back corner, even though Therese had moved back from the door when it opened in order to let the woman stand in front of her, as was customary in an elevator when someone else walked in. She didn’t get to study the woman as much as she would have liked, but she was not disappointed by the quick glimpse she had managed to get of her face. Her blonde hair was less styled today, instead pulled back loosely behind her neck. She made no attempt to acknowledge Therese, and didn’t even seem to look at her.

 

Therese stood straight, facing the elevator doors and wishing she didn’t look like a wet dog, standing in her dripping, clinging clothes, camera slung over her shoulder, and drawings flapping openly at her side. Her sweater had ridden up even further since her sprint from the train, and she could feel goosebumps on her skin there.

 

“Are you shooting the wedding?”

 

The woman’s voice startled Therese and she felt herself start. She would have been able to play it off, but her shoe squeaked against the floor of the elevator. Therese turned to look at the woman. She did not meet the gaze of an amiable stranger, as she expected. Instead, the woman looked at her fiercely, unflinchingly, almost defiantly. It made her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away now that she was afforded the opportunity to study her face. Her unblinking eyes were a light blue, set above exquisitely high cheekbones. Her nose was stately, but not entirely even or perfect. She appeared to be wearing very little makeup, but when Therese looked at her full, well-defined lips, she mused that perhaps she was wrong. Did she have some sort of light lip color on? She couldn’t imagine that anyone’s bottom lip could look so soft and smooth if they weren’t wearing some sort of balm. Somehow, all her imperfect features came to together to form the most beautiful face Therese had ever seen. She was wearing a tan, expensive-looking sweater over tight black pants with knee-high black leather riding boots. She was completely dry, but held a long, black, wet umbrella next to her hip, the tip balanced steadily on the slippery floor. She stood like she was formed there, as if someone brilliantly talented had come along and created her from nothing in order to stand in that elevator and look completely at ease - like a statue that knew how to stand there, because it had been standing there for decades. Therese suddenly realized that she was looking at this woman silently and hadn’t answered in what felt like minutes.

 

“What?”

 

“On the roof.” The woman glanced down at Therese’s camera and back up to her face, giving Therese a silent clue without having to say anything else.

 

Therese had no idea there was a wedding on the roof, or that they even did weddings on the roof.

 

“No. I don’t really do that.”

 

The woman stared at her, never breaking eye contact. Therese felt the need to say something else, to justify herself, her presence in this elevator, in this world.

 

“I’m trying to do this.” She held up the drawings limply for a moment, then quickly let her arm fall to her side again, her drawings exposed to the air and the woman’s penetrating gaze. Therese realized that she had given no context whatsoever to her statements, but she felt no need to expound on them, since the woman seemed either to understand already or to not care enough to want to hear more.

 

The woman said nothing else, and suddenly her phone rang.

 

“Carol Aird.” Therese was amazed at how a voice which was always so short and forceful could remain so pleasing.

 

Therese turned back around to face the doors, feeling that this elevator ride had gone on for about twenty years. She just wanted to get off and get to the apartment so she could begin looking back on this conversation with horror and thinking of how she should have done it differently.

 

It was silent, and Therese couldn’t even hear whoever was on the other line of the the woman’s phone. The elevator opened at the 9th floor, and a dressed-up couple got on, smiling at Therese as they pressed the button for the top floor. As the door closed, Therese heard one word come from the back of the elevator.

 

“Yes.”

 

Neither Therese nor the couple moved.

 

Clearly, this Carol Aird didn’t care to utter any more words than absolutely necessary. Therese felt the familiar odd pressure under her feet that only elevators could provide as they slowed and watched the “12” button’s light flick off. Carol Aird slipped her way out of the elevator and started to stride down the hall. She still had the phone pressed to her ear as the elevator doors closed in front of Therese’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good thing Carol is so gorgeous, because her icy intensity is definitely intimidating and possibly off-putting. But it's okay for now, because, you know... she's really hot. I'm trying to decide whether to include some chapters from Carol's point of view. Thoughts?


	3. Parsnips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, we continue with Therese then slip into some Carol. I can't stop writing this. I'm not getting anything else done at work.

Therese was about to leave the restaurant after a long and slow lunch shift. It was Noelle and Dylan’s last night home, and Therese knew they had to be out of the apartment by 7am the next morning, so she figured she would text Noelle to see if they wanted her to bring some food home for dinner. She assumed they would be in last-minute panic mode.

 

Therese pulled out her phone and sat on the stool behind the hostess stand, glancing around to make sure no one was coming into the restaurant.

 

T: Do you guys want me to bring something home for dinner?

 

N: No worries, Dylan’s making something for all of us. Some vegetarian squash thing… idk, we’ll see how it goes…

 

T: Ha, ok be home in a bit

 

When Therese stepped into the apartment elevator, her mind flashed back to Carol Aird and her steely blue eyes, as it had done many times in the two days since their brief conversation – if you could call it a conversation. Every time she had been in the elevator since then, she had stared at the digital display above the doors that marked what floor they were on, always waiting to see those seven dashes that made up the digital “12”. She was so familiar with staring at the numbers on the display that she knew the orientation of the tiny slants at the bottom of each dash. It always seemed to linger at 12, and she was always praying that this was the time it would stop so she might catch a glimpse of Carol Aird and maybe even have a chance to talk to her again. She knew, of course, that this was unlikely to happen anytime soon, since she and Carol were just two of the hundreds of people coming in and out of this building everyday. She often silently judged people who used phrases like “meant to be” or who constantly insisted that something that happened had to be “more than a coincidence”. She believed in probability and the randomness of the universe, but not divine intervention or destiny. But this woman made Therese secretly wish she could push her rational mind out of the way and believe in serendipity. Maybe the universe would smile down on her, stop the elevator on the 12th floor, and present this otherworldly woman to her like a piece of art framed by the elevator doors. So far, no luck.

 

When she got up to the apartment, she found Noelle standing at the kitchen counter that looked out over the living room, chopping up vegetables.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Oh hey kid. How was work?”

 

“Fine. Blah. Slow. Whatever.” Therese sighed.

 

“Just get into my business. You can sleep in until 10am and then end up stuck in the office until 3am listening to nerds argue about Java code.”

 

Therese smiled. Just then, the door opened and Dylan strolled in with the mail and a paper Whole Foods bag.

 

“Hey girls.”

 

“Hey babe,” Noelle said. “Store busy?”

 

“Not terrible. I got the stuff I need, so let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

 

He pulled up the recipe they were attempting to make on the iPad and started rifling through pans in the cabinet. Noelle looked quickly through the grocery bag.

 

“Babe, did you get parsnips?”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said, his voice echoing inside the cabinet as he reached into its cavernous depths, clearly in search of a particular pan.

 

“They’re not in here.”

 

Therese sat at the counter bar with a beer and watched the show. She knew them both well, and loved watching them interact, alternatively making fun of one another then stealing moments of sweet affection when they thought no one was looking. They made relationships look easy. Therese couldn’t understand it - in every one of her relationships, someone was always less interested than the other (she was always the less interested party). She thought about the near impossibility that two people could be attracted to one another equally, at the same time, both single, and both looking for the same level of commitment, whether it was serious or casual. How could so many people be in relationships? She had recently seen her other friends begin to marry off, as if hitting your mid-twenties meant that you had to go ahead and lock down the one you were with. Were most people just settling, or was she particularly unlucky to not have found anything? She knew she was attractive and intelligent. When was she going to find someone right?

 

Dylan walked over to the counter and confidently pulled a smaller clear bag out of the grocery bag.

 

“Right here.” He smiled.

 

Noelle picked up the bag, looked inside it, then held it up for Therese to look at.

 

“Dylan, these are turnips.”

 

“What?”

 

Noelle looked at Therese and deadpanned, “Is this real life?” Therese smiled and took a long swig of her beer.

 

“Turnips and parsnips are different.”

 

Dylan turned to look at the bag again. “Well, close enough, right?”

 

“They’re not in the recipe. Should we even use them?”

 

Dylan came over, grabbed the turnips and threw them onto the bottom shelf of the fridge. “Problem solved.”

 

Therese watched them fumble around, amazed by the fact that they were so relaxed and had even ventured to make a new recipe the night before they had to leave for six weeks. They had an incredible ability to stay calm in chaos and take life as it arrived – in whichever way it chose to arrive.

 

“Therese, you’re going to do something fun with me tonight.”

 

Therese looked up from her phone.

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“We have a tenants meeting for the people in the building tonight at 8. It’s only once a month so I’m lucky I can make it right before we have to leave.”

 

“Why are you going to it? And more importantly, why am I going to it?”

 

“They said they’re going to talk about the plans for the rooftop area. They just renovated it. I want to see if we can plant a little organic garden or something. I feel like people would want that, don’t you think?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“And you’re coming because Dylan still hasn’t finished packing and I’m not facing these uptight assholes alone.”

 

“Ok, well what are you gonna do for me?”

 

Noelle laughed. “I’m gonna let you stay in my apartment for six weeks.”

 

Therese watched Dylan pour oil into the already scalding pan on the stovetop, hot oil spraying up in tiny droplets and hitting his arm. He grabbed his arm silently and grimaced, then looked over to Noelle to make sure she didn’t see him.

 

Therese suddenly thought of something.

 

“Hey, speaking of the tenants in this building, I met the hottest women I’ve ever seen in my life the other day in the elevator.”

 

Noelle and Dylan both looked up at her.

 

“Who?” Noelle asked.

 

Dylan followed immediately with, “What’d she look like?”

 

“Her name is Carol Aird.”

 

Noelle and Dylan looked at each other and Therese saw no recognition of the name in either of their faces.

 

“She had shoulder-length blonde hair, with this amazing body and clothes like she walked off a runway. She’s probably early thirties… she seems kind of intense and angry.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I know who you’re talking about,” Noelle interrupted, “Dylan, I think it’s that woman from the pool.”

 

Dylan smiled. “Ohhhh yeahhh. Right.”

 

Noelle looked at Therese. “Yeah, she’s incredible... but a total bitch, from what I’ve seen. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed, though.”

 

Dylan laughed as Noelle continued, “Plus I’m pretty sure she’d be into it. I think she plays for your team,” she smiled, looking at Therese.

 

Dylan turned back towards them. “What? No, I’m pretty sure she lives with a dude.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“I’ve seen her with him. More than once. I thought they were married. He’s always touching her.”

 

Noelle’s face softened. “We’re obviously talking about different people. I’ve seen this woman with two different girls on separate occasions. She didn’t look at them like they were friends.”

 

“How can you even tell?” Dylan asked incredulously.

 

“I can tell. I have excellent gaydar.”

 

“Better than Therese’s?”

 

Therese interjected. “She probably does. She took me to my first pride parade… what was it, your eighteenth? But I agree with Dylan, she looks straight.”

 

Noelle wouldn’t acquiesce. “I’m telling you, that woman eats pussy. And it could be yours. You’re about to be alone in an empty apartment with a guaranteed exit strategy after six weeks. And by the looks of the young girls I’ve seen her with, I’m sure you’re just her type.” She grinned.

 

Therese felt a shot of excitement bound through her body at the thought, but knew that it was insane to imagine. She couldn’t even be one hundred percent sure they were talking about the same woman, and even if they were, Carol Aird had looked at her in that elevator like she was a prop, a prop that she instantly regretted talking to once Therese had responded.

 

 

* * *

  

_Swear I’m gonna find you_

_Coming right behind you_

_Get you baby_

_One of these nights_

-The Eagles

 

Carol looked in the mirror, placing a white gold earring in her left ear. She glanced at herself quickly, making sure the left earring hung at the same angle as the right, then grabbed her clutch from the kitchen counter. She threw her knee-length trench coat over her shoulders as she slammed the door to her apartment shut. It was 8:15.

 

The glass-walled conference room off the lobby was already filled with people sitting in a semicircle facing a podium where an older man appeared to be talking animatedly. She breezed in through the door and stood behind the chairs at the back, and two older women turned to give her a dirty look for coming in so late. Carol could feel their eyes on her but kept staring straight ahead at the man speaking. She knew the building was renting out the rooftop for events and she was considering having the firm’s party up there in a few weeks. She needed to know how to book it and whether any of these stuffy aristocratic dinosaurs were going to attempt to book it in the next couple weeks.

 

She scanned the room quickly, disinterestedly. Suddenly her eyes halted their sweeping movement and stopped on two young girls. The first was petite and dirty blonde, wearing a flannel shirt over skinny jeans. The other she instantly recognized. It was the girl from a couple days ago, that small brunette with the tight little body she had seen so wonderfully wet in the elevator.

 

Carol thought back to their exchange. She had been unsurprised to see that she had startled the girl when she first spoke, but the girl had turned and her big green eyes stared boldly back at her. She seemed to study Carol for a long moment, in no rush to answer. Carol was used to throwing people off kilter - it was one of her greatest gifts in the business world - but this girl challenged Carol’s usually unmatched steadfastness. She recalled that the girl had indicated that she was trying to be an artist or something of the sort. The drawing she offered up halfheartedly to Carol’s eyes was good, modern, and neat, but she knew the girl would have a hell of a time trying to make it in the design world. A seemingly endless line of young students flowed through her office almost daily, trying to sell their ideas. The art department had more material from desperate young artists than they knew what to do with.

 

Brought back to the present, Carol noticed that the girl sat confidently with one crossed leg over the other, her long dark hair half up in a bun. Suddenly, the girl turned slowly, and her eyes finally met Carol’s. She did not look surprised or unsettled to see her, she simply held her gaze. Carol made no attempt to shift her gaze either. She was pleased to see the look of intense interest in the girls eyes and had no problem waiting until the girl looked away before she did. Finally, the girl turned back to face the front.

 

Another five minutes passed, and Carol flipped through her emails on her phone until she realized that the flannel-clad hippie next to her little dark-haired beauty started to speak about plants or something. Carol started listening intently.

 

“I’m glad to hear it’s a possibility. I’d be happy to provide all the starting materials – seeds, fertilizer, everything.”

 

The old man in the front studied her carefully. “We have another meeting in four weeks. A formal proposal will need to be submitted to the board by the end of the year, so be sure it is delivered to me, in person, before that meeting.”

 

The tree hugger quickly responded, “Well, I’ll be out of town at the time and won’t return until after that meeting. I can have the proposal done in the meantime, but I can’t get it to you in person. If you really need it delivered by hand, this is Therese Belivet, she will be here for the next few weeks and can get it to you or you can come get it whenever you need it. 1723.”

_Well well well_ , thought Carol. _Therese Belivet_. She wondered how it was spelled. Regardless, she now knew that this sweet little thing would be in Apartment 1723 for at least a few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think of Carol? Should we hear more from her POV periodically? I won't lie, her thoughts are fun to write. ;)


	4. Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am adding chapters very quickly, so make sure you've read all of them! I also have a question for y'all at the end, so be sure to share your thoughts after reading!

Therese got up from the ultra modern and incredibly uncomfortable wooden chair in the meeting room, almost unconsciously putting her arms overhead and stretching her back like a cat. Noelle had jumped up at the conclusion of the meeting, quickly whispering “Be right back!” to Therese and went to talk to the man who had very self-importantly presided over it.

 

Therese wasn’t sure if it was the chair or the fact that she was still getting used to the super-duper, ultra-pillow-top, something-or-other mattress in Noelle and Dylan’s guest room (or maybe a combination of both) but her back had been aching for days and she had to get up and walk. She strolled around the room, looking at the ambiguous, generic contemporary art on the walls. It was the sort of art that was no doubt copied from some mildly famous painting, altered just enough to distinguish it from the original, and then reprinted thousands of times to adorn the walls of rooms just like this. Rooms that were created to come off as well-decorated, but inoffensive and unassuming enough so as not to distract from whatever was being discussed in the room.

 

The glass doors out to the lobby had been propped open now that the meeting was over, so she took a few steps out into the hallway. She looked left and saw a few people standing by the front entrance that opened to the street. A man carrying luggage was laughing audibly while talking to an older couple, clearly working hard for his inevitable tip for helping them into the building, home from whatever airport they had flown in into, from whatever far-flung place they had been. The man started hauling the luggage away, and as he moved, Therese began to see a figure in profile revealed. First she saw the blonde hair, then a beautiful white gold earring hanging above a confident but elegantly-held shoulder, down the line of a knee-length coat that was tied with a sash around her waist, accentuating the dip of her lower back that then softly flowed out to form the sublime curve of her ass. She was revealed from behind the man from left to right, as if she were a picture being moved slowly into view, inch by delicious inch in a torturously slow fashion. Carol lifted her chin and shook her hair out of her face gently. Her right hand came up to her forehead to brush a wisp of hair off her face. Therese relished the chance to study her more carefully than she had been able to during their brief eye contact during the meeting.

 

Suddenly, Carol seemed to recognize something outside and walked quickly towards the door. It was held open for her, and as the glass door began to close behind her, Therese saw a tall, dark-haired man emerge from around a cab and open the closer cab door for Carol. She got on her tip toes to kiss him, and Therese couldn’t tell from her distance away whether she had kissed the man on the lips, but it appeared that way. Carol was turned away from her now, but the man came away from the kiss with a wide smile and what appeared to be a genuine laugh, then guided Carol into the cab with a hand on the small of her back. He shut the door and walked around the other side of the cab to get in. The cab glided smoothly out of sight and Therese just stood dumbly in the hallway.

 

Noelle came walking out of the conference room and walked up to Therese. “Heyyo. Ready to go upstairs?”

 

Therese just looked at her for a moment, wanting to explain what she just saw and press Noelle for details about the woman she had been so confident was the one Therese was talking about earlier, but she decided she didn’t want to get into it.

 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

 

Therese was frustrated and without thinking muttered, “Must you have told him my name? And the apartment number? I don’t want anyone to come looking for me.”

 

Therese looked over to see Noelle make the half-smiling, half-indignant face that was always followed by a dramatic, sarcastic comment.

 

“Therese, why do you want to keep me from my dreams? I want to grow my own zucchini. We need to bring small farming back and make these city robots get their hands dirty. My boyfriend doesn’t even know what a turnip is.” Noelle laughed at her own words and had clearly not sensed the agitation in Therese’s voice, which Therese was grateful for.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What were you bothering with it for? I haven't even met anyone in the building yet aside from the doorman, and have no interest in doing so,” Harge stated amusedly as he sat across from Carol at the small, square table tucked on one side of the restaurant against the windows. Carol was already looking for a waiter, no doubt to get them started on fetching her a drink.

 

Harge had seen Carol coming out of the meeting in the lobby when he picked her up and immediately questioned why she was participating willingly in a group activity that wasn’t for work.

 

“I’m going to book the rooftop for the 6th. It’ll be easier for me to coordinate something in the building rather than deal with the Four Seasons.”

 

“Does it make a difference where it is? You’re not the one who will be dealing with the details.”

 

Carol’s executive assistant, Debbie, was a master planner and the only one Carol trusted with planning events that would bear Carol’s name. Harge loved to bring up Carol’s reliance on her.

 

Carol looked up at him, tempted to remind Harge that running a marketing firm required delegating. She decided to ignore the comment. For a moment, she marveled at how this man dared to tease her so much despite her position over him and his unwavering seriousness and professionalism in the office when other colleagues were around.

 

“ _Anyway_ , all that matters is that Johnson takes the bait. I’ve been working him over for months. Once we have access to those resources, we can start working on the Conde Nast project and be ready to launch the campaign by March 1st.”

 

“If you say so. By the way, I just hired two new copywriters.”

 

Carol just watched him for a moment as he lifted his eyebrows and turned his handsome face to glance around the restaurant while taking the first sip of his drink. Carol decided to take action on something she had been thinking about for the last few days, something she had repeatedly talked herself into and then out of several times.

 

“I need you to find a position for me.”

 

Harge knew what this meant. She had someone she wanted placed in the company, something she did periodically when she needed to pass out a job for political reasons. Last time it had been an overconfident, 22-year-old web designer who just happened to be the son of one of the wealthy clients she was courting. A few months before that, it had been an innocent-looking, enthusiastic young woman who ended up leaving after a month.

 

“Where do you want them?”

 

“Art department. Doesn’t really matter what the role is, just need to get her in it.”

 

“In-office or remote? We don’t have any open desks in the studio.”

 

“Again, doesn’t matter. I just need access to her, doesn’t need to be in person right now.”

 

Harge didn’t ask anything further on the topic. He didn’t need to – the task was simple enough, and he knew Carol would provide him with any information he needed the next day at work. She liked to use Harge as a way to keep any possibly uncouth dealings from being traced directly to her. Harge was in the unfortunate position of being in charge of the company’s finances, so he approved company spending, including increasing headcount, but had to defer to Carol if she demanded something specific.

 

Part of Carol’s strategy in business – and what she believed to be one of the keys to her success – was that she didn’t micromanage. She hired good people, then let them make the decisions appropriate for their role, assuming they were capable until they proved otherwise. In this way, she had collected a group of employees who followed her not only because she was such a magnetic and powerful presence, but also because she knew that giving her employees autonomy made them _want_ to please her.

 

After two vodka tonics, their dinner arrived and Carol carefully placed her napkin on her lap and picked up her fork with her delicate but always smooth and confident movements.

 

“You’re beautiful.”

 

Carol looked up at Harge to see him looking her in the eyes earnestly. She held eye contact for a moment, then looked back down at her plate.

 

She let a quiet moment pass. “Anyway, Johnson is ours. The money is coming soon.”

 

Harge smiled. “Do you ever doubt that you’ll get what you want?”

 

Carol didn’t even look up at him as she speared a piece of broccoli rabe violently. “No. I always get what I want.”

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a week since Therese had seen Carol walk out the door and into the arms of that smug, smiling man. Noelle and Dylan had left, and Therese had gotten used to her new routine. The inconsistent nature of her work schedule left her unfamiliar with being required to be somewhere at a particular time every day, but she needed to get back around dinnertime every night to feed the cats. She had never cared much about cats, but she found them comforting when she walked into the large, empty apartment every night, as if just having another living, breathing creature with a beating heart just like hers made being alone more bearable. One of the cats was always hiding, always trying to evade capture. It was inarguably the more beautiful cat of the two, with soft, flowing fur and a slow but easily apparent smugness, as if it knew it was beautiful. The other, a one-eyed tabby, followed Therese from spot to spot, always wanting to cuddle up on her lap every chance she got. She studied the purring cat looking at her with its one green eye, and smiled as she thought about Dylan’s dramatic retelling of how Noelle had come home from the shelter with the most pitiful cat they had, insisting that no one else was going to want a one-eyed cat.

 

She had a lot of alone time. She forced herself to work on new drawings every night, but she was uncharacteristically uninspired. She had tried to push thoughts of Carol out of her head, but often found herself picturing the soft but defined curves of her body and that full, luscious lower lip. She was especially prone to these thoughts when she laid down in bed at night and became aware of her body sinking into the bed. It was often the only time she was connected to her physical self aside from when she was drawing, as most of the day was spent using that body to carry her around, hand out menus to customers, and perform countless other mundane tasks.

 

Tonight, Therese was having a particularly hard time shaking those thoughts. Thinking about Carol now triggered anger instead of just fascination. She was angry at Noelle for planting this idea in her head, when all evidence currently pointed to the fact that Carol was exactly the woman Dylan described – she was obviously with that man and Therese had absolutely no reason to believe she was interested in women. But then, she remembered the look she had shared with Carol at that silly tenants meeting, the way those eyes bored into her and seemed to promise something. At this point, the only thing they promised was to haunt her.

 

She closed her eyes and struggled to keep them closed. All of a sudden, she heard a buzzing and saw her phone moving along the nightstand as it vibrated. There was a text from Lauren.

 

L: What’re you up to?

 

Therese instantly regretted opening the text, as she had forgotten that she had “read” receipts on. Lauren would know she had seen it.

 

It was 11:26pm. A text from an ex after 10pm may as well be an invitation to bed. They had only broken up a couple weeks ago, but Therese was actually a little surprised she hadn’t heard from her before now. Therese clicked the side of the phone to set it on sleep and placed it facedown on the nightstand. She closed her eyes again. After a few minutes with no sleep on the horizon, she picked up the phone and opened the message window.

 

With her fingers poised over the keys, she stopped to think for a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is my first fic, I am still figuring out what my style is. I'm going to start working more sex-related stuff in, since the story is organically leading me toward it. What are people's opinions on how explicit the sexual details should be? I tend to have a dirty mouth, so if I do decide to go all-out, I want to give you all fair warning. We shall see. :)
> 
> Other thoughts on this chapter are much appreciated! As a reader, I didn't realize how inspiring comments were until I started writing myself.


	5. Blonde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have been furiously writing this chapter all day, but I had to spend an hour and a half in the most boring corporate strategy meeting that has ever existed. Alas, I still found time to write it. I. Cannot. Stop.

Their kisses were hard and messy, and Lauren was surprised by how forcefully Therese was removing both their clothes and laying her naked body on top of hers. Therese began to kiss her way down Lauren’s neck, but Lauren kept trying to pull her back up to her lips. When Therese finally acquiesced, she held Therese’s face to keep it turned to her and tried to kiss Therese softly, sweetly. Therese kept her eyes closed. She wasn’t in the mood for gentle lovemaking, but at least with their faces so close together, Therese didn’t feel compelled to open her eyes. When Lauren finally let go of her face, Therese went back to kissing her neck and placed her left hand on Lauren’s breast, squeezing it lightly, then quickly slid her hand down to immediately start circling her clit.

 

“Whoa, whoa, babe, slow down,” Lauren breathed, trying again to bring Therese’s head up toward hers.

 

“I don’t want to. Come here.” Therese moved to lay next to Lauren then pulled her on top of her. Lauren was surprised, but looked more than willing to follow Therese’s demands.

 

Throughout their relationship, and in all of Therese’s previous ill-fated relationships, she somehow unintentionally fell into the role of being a top. She didn’t consider herself unreceptive to being pleasured, but she somehow always felt raw, stripped down, even violated when things were focused only on her. She often had trouble having an orgasm but insisted to her concerned lovers that it was just “how she was”. It was for that reason that she found that it was often easier to avoid being eaten out or fucked, since that would put less focus on her and her orgasm (or lack thereof).

 

Tonight was different. When Lauren didn’t move for a moment, Therese opened her eyes and looked down to see a question in Lauren’s. Therese nodded, and she immediately began sliding her mouth down against Therese’s chest, letting both her hands follow to touch every spot of the damp line she was leaving with her mouth. She finally started to lick along the creases between Therese’s thighs and the rest of her body.

 

Therese looked down quickly at Lauren’s beautiful, long blonde hair that was splayed all along Therese’s stomach and fell down along the sides of her torso, and had an idea. She gathered her hair into one fist and allowed the length of Lauren’s ponytail to disappear behind her fist, so that it appeared as if she was holding onto a fistful of shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair. The view of this blonde hair, along with her closed eyes, allowed her to imagine that beautiful creature she hadn’t been able to shake out of her mind. As her mind tried to glue together the memories she had of Carol's physical attributes from the few times she had seen her, she mixed them with what was currently happening. In this fantasy world, Carol’s hands moved down Therese’s thighs as she continued to tease her clit, licking below it and then around it slowly.

 

Suddenly she felt Carol’s beautiful mouth lift off her, interrupting the delicious movie playing out in Therese’s mind. She opened her eyes and looked down to see Lauren’s big, almond-shaped brown eyes looking at her. Therese sighed and closed her eyes again for just a moment, and Lauren whispered, “Look at me”. Therese felt a wave of guilt pass over her. She was looking at this sweet, beautiful girl and was actually _angry_ at her for wanting to feel connected, wanting to feel like Therese was present and emotionally engaged.

 

Therese slowed her breathing as she looked at her, and lightly pulled on her arms to encourage her to come back up toward her. Lauren looked slightly disappointed but came back up to meet Therese’s face. Therese flipped them over to get on top, then decided to get her off as quickly as she could without seeming harsh or hurried. She placed her face along Lauren’s neck and ground her hips against her, which helped apply more pressure to her hand as she massaged Lauren’s clit. After what felt like an eternity to Therese, she heard Lauren desperately gasp several times as she came. As she settled down, Therese kept her hand on her but let her face collapse into the pillow, silently cursing herself for doing this to both of them.

 

* * *

  


The top two floors of the apartment building were different from the rest. They were larger apartments, with each one taking up the footprint of two apartments on all other floors. As a result, the doors in the hallways were farther apart, and there were only a few along each expanse of wall. If one were to look down one of these hallways on this particular day, at this particular moment, they would see a small strip of evening sunlight reflected crookedly on the wall opposite a cracked-open door.

 

A shiny black heel became visible in profile, followed by a smooth, slender lower leg. It was the beginning of a fantasy, the promise of a scantily-clad woman behind that door. Instead, the bare leg suddenly disappeared under a just-above-knee-length tweed skirt that covered what were bound to be slender but shapely thighs. Just before her behind became visible outside the door, Carol stopped to look back impatiently and hold the door open as Harge walked through while putting on his dark gray suit jacket simultaneously. He roughly pushed his occupied arm against the door to hold it open enough for him to slip through behind Carol. The door locked automatically, but Carol pulled out a key to lock the deadbolt from the outside.

 

They walked toward the elevator, with Harge following a few steps behind Carol. Once they got on the elevator and the doors closed, Carol closed her eyes for a brief moment and let out the softest, quietest sigh; one that someone not attuned to her would have missed. Harge heard the sigh float past his ear and looked over to watch her for a moment, until she opened her eyes and turned her head in his direction. He faced back to the front of the elevator and stood quietly as the floor numbers ticked down. She kept her eyes on him, studying his hair, his face, his clothes. She noticed a piece of white lint clearly visible against his suit jacket, and debated on whether to pick it off or leave it be. She wanted to leave it, but decided it bothered her too much and gently removed it, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to let it drop to the floor. Harge noticed what was going on and looked over to smile at her. This time, she gave him a scolding look, not exactly friendly, but with a hint of knowing amusement.

 

They were the last of their party to show up at the restaurant, and Carol silently berated Harge for making them late (or rather, right on time, which meant late to Carol) by waiting too long to iron his button-down before they left the apartment. She saw Johnson from across the room, standing up to wave them over to the table. About six other people sat at the table, all with smiles plastered on their faces, some genuine, some undoubtedly contrived.

 

Drinks came and went in a constant flow, conversation following the same pattern as the group worked through several innocuous topics - whose children got into what school, general comments about other companies’ acquisitions and failures. Once they were halfway through dinner, they began to get to the heart of the conversation, the true reason for this drawn-out evening. Carol bantered with Johnson at length, touting the advancements and improvements they were making at the firm.

 

“I want you to see our space and meet some of our team. We have an array of talented, diverse creative thinkers. They will no doubt continue to be an asset to the firm as we continue to grow.”

 

“And will any of these employees be assigned exclusively to our project, if we were to use your firm? You should know that Allevo is offering us a team of four to cater to our needs.” Johnson looked at her expectantly.

 

“We can arrange any team you need. In fact, I have some eager young employees that we could even send over to draw up concepts and engage you at your office to cut down on some of the time lost in communication back and forth via email.”

 

“Hm. I’d consider it.” He gave her a slight smile.

 

Carol knew that now was the time to back off. Johnson was always affable, cooperative, and reasonable, but like many other executives, did not want to feel as if a decision was being made for him. She would let it percolate until he convinced himself he was the one who had come up with it.

 

Johnson turned back to lighter topics, carrying the conversation with his charm and ability to coax out genuine laughter from whatever crowd he encountered.

 

* * *

 

Carol and Harge walked down that long, hardwood hallway, Harge a few steps in front of her. They were approaching the apartment door when Harge sighed.

 

“Those dinners are exhausting.”

 

Carol didn’t lift her head, but said quietly, “Why? You’re not the one doing the heavy lifting.”

 

Harge said nothing, but rushed to unlock the door. He stopped abruptly upon opening the door and leaned down to pick something up off the floor.

 

Carol almost ran into him, putting her arms up to avoid a full-on collision. “What the hell are you doing? Keep moving,” Carol muttered.

 

She squeezed past Harge as he remained blocking the doorway. She looked down to see him reading a small, folded sticky note that must have been slipped under the door. Harge didn’t move.

 

Carol moved to take it from him and kept her eyes on Harge’s face as she turned her head to finally look down at it.

 

_I miss you. And your tongue._

 

There was a little heart drawn underneath the message.

 

Carol took a deep breath. “Jesus fucking Christ”.

 

Harge moved over to the counter to a short, neat stack of mail that had collected over the past few weeks, all addressed to him. He started flipping through it disinterestedly. “Yeah. Wow.” He didn’t look up at Carol, but she could sense the judgment in his words.

 

She stared at him and suddenly wanted to slap him across the face. _What right did he have?_

 

“Were you planning on staying tonight? I’m tired.” Carol sighed again.

 

“I thought I would. I have to get up at 5 to get to the monthly budget meeting at the office towers downtown.”

 

“Harge, it doesn’t make any sense for you to stay here if you need to be downtown that early.”

 

He stopped flipping through the mail and looked up from under his eyebrows at her. He slid the mail into his briefcase and gathered several things from around the apartment that he had left strewn around as they were getting ready before dinner.

 

“Don’t forget the stuff in the guest room either. And I don’t care if your overnight bag fits everything or not, I don’t want you leaving your stuff around.”

 

An hour later, Carol was splayed across her couch with a glass in her hand. Her heels lay abandoned on the carpet, kicked off haphazardly once she had finally sat back to rest her head on the back cushion of the couch. She took a long drink then looked down to see the glass empty save a few pathetic ice cubes, their edges worn down by the room temperature vodka that only moments ago had embraced them.

 

She walked back over into the kitchen, letting her fingertips trace the counter as she walked. Her eyes caught the sticky note and she picked it up again, studying the words. She suddenly tossed it back onto the counter, forcefully enough that it slid smoothly and hit the back of the counter, not fluttering through the air as such small, light papers were often wont to do.

 

She poured another drink, then walked into her office and opened her large, black leather purse that held her laptop and other work documents. She slid her hand into the front pocket, paused for a moment, then pulled out a small, credit-card sized box that bore her company’s logo embossed on the front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Therese. Or poor Lauren?
> 
> As for Carol - what the hell is she up to?
> 
> Talk to me!


	6. Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get these two ladies to cross paths again. And get just a teeny, tiny look into some of Carol's thoughts.

Therese felt like a bag of bricks, her body logged down with inescapable guilt and shame. She took the steps to the subway slowly, then got on and walked down the center aisle to collapse onto one of the long bench seats. She sat as far as possible from the few others who, for whatever their own reasons, were on the subway at 5:56 am on a Saturday morning. Therese had stayed with Lauren the night before, unable to make herself leave after what she had done. So she stayed, beginning her punishment by tossing restlessly in Lauren’s full-sized bed. She felt as if she had been awake all night, constantly looking at the time on her phone, but couldn’t quite remember some of the spaces of time between her obsessive checking. So perhaps she had drifted off.

 

She had a feeling as if she was at a point in her life’s directionless, meandering pathway where the path straight ahead ended, or rather led straight into an impassable abyss of darkness, but she could not see or feel any alternate path to take. Was this it? Was this how it would always be? She pulled out her phone and opened her text messages.

 

T: I fucked Lauren.

 

She sat on the train for a few minutes, constantly checking her phone for a response. Finally, she opened the message window and saw three little dots moving along the bottom of the conversation. Noelle had a habit of writing texts in fits and spurts, so the ellipses would start and stop periodically.

 

N: Are you fucking kidding me? WHY?

 

T: Idk? I feel like shit about it. She texted me last night and wanted me to come over.

 

N: Wow… and you went. And then you fucked her. Do you realize how fucked up that is?

 

T: Agghhhhhhh I hate myself.

 

N: I’m going to call you.

 

T: Don’t I’m on the train. What do I do now?

 

N: First of all, thank you for waking me up at 3 in the morning with this shitty confession. Second of all, you have to break it off now. For good. Clean up whatever mess you made last night and make sure she knows it’s over.

 

T: Ok. I feel so terrible.

 

N: You should. You always do this shit and assume that because you don’t care, the person you’re with isn’t going to care. You go around acting like this and then bitch about how you’re not in a relationship.

 

Therese felt tears forming in her eyes and just reread the words a few times. Noelle started typing again.

 

N: Fix it. And grow up.

* * *

 

 

When Therese finally made it back to the apartment building, she got on the elevator and stood in a daze, not noticing that the elevator had stopped and reached the 17th floor until the doors slid open. She walked slowly down the hall, pulling out her key for that stupid deadbolt. As she lifted the key to the lock, her eyes caught on a small white envelope taped to the door. The envelope was made of thick, substantive paper. She flipped it around and found that it had not been sealed. When she lifted the flap, a small upside-down gray triangle was visible where the sides of the envelope opening sloped down to create a “V”. She pulled out a small gray paper and squinted her eyes to study the small, neat print. It was a business card.

 

_Carol Aird_

_Director of Marketing_

 

There was no company name, only an intricately designed logo above Carol’s name. There was an email address and several phone numbers under Carol’s name, and one had been underlined with what Therese recognized from her years of drawing as an ultra-fine, felt-tipped black marker.

 

* * *

 

 

Carol went to the gym every Sunday morning after sleeping in until about 8, which was indulgent considering her usual wake-up time of 5:30 am. This Sunday, she had the urge at the last moment to forgo the gym and run outside, as the weather was quite warm, even as they dove into the heart of October. She changed into one of her usual workout tank tops and a pair of tight, short workout shorts that hit just below her the curve of her behind. She wore decidedly fewer and less modest clothes to work out and on weekends in general, finally freed from the restraints of professional attire and what her position required in terms of setting an example and managing the tone of the office. Despite her reserved appearance, Carol had a rebellious and wild side, which she had learned to control carefully as she ascended the corporate ladder over the years.

 

And what a long and arduous climb it had been. She rarely reflected on the past, instead finding that always looking forward to the future helped her to remain focused while allowing her to push away what she knew were her greatest weaknesses. Time had hardened her to those experiences, the ones that had created this monster of coldness and resistance inside her. Any time those memories crept up through some crack in her mind or heart that she had allowed to reveal itself by not being diligent enough to control her thoughts and emotions, she simply redirected her efforts. Work harder, run harder, fuck harder. She pounded her emotions down with a firmness that required constant, immense energy.

 

She returned to the apartment still panting, sweat running down her chest between the valley of her breasts, along her arms and down her long, lithe legs. She walked to the kitchen and leaned her back against the counter, then let the front of her body fold down while keeping her hands on her hips. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure and the calm, impenetrable demeanor that physical exertion could sometimes disrupt. At that moment, her phone rang. It showed an unknown number.

 

She answered curtly. “Carol Aird.”

 

“Hi, this is Therese Belivet. From the elevator.”

 

Carol suddenly stood up very straight and began walking toward the living room. She had expected a call, but perhaps not so soon. She had the impression from their previous encounters that this girl would be afraid of her, just like the rest of them. Carol knew from the moment she heard at that tenants meeting that Therese was staying in the building - _1723_ \- that she was going to eat her alive.

 

There was a moment of silence as Carol wracked her brain for exactly the words she wanted to say in order to keep her plans on track, but she was having trouble, possibly because she had been caught off guard while she was still recovering from her workout. She bought herself time.

 

“Hello Therese. I hope you’re well.”

 

“Yes, thank you. How are you?”

 

Carol thought for a moment about how bold this girl was, to call her when she had no idea what Carol wanted, or… could she even match Carol’s face to a name? Carol knew she had never introduced herself, and wondered if the girl knew she was the one who had eye-fucked her unashamedly at that meeting. Then she remembered - she had answered the phone while on the elevator on that rainy day. The girl had been listening.

 

“I’m well, thank you. I wanted to reach out to you about a professional opportunity. I run a company that specializes in digital and print marketing, and there have recently been openings on our design team. I remembered your drawings and thought of you.”

 

There was another long pause.

 

“Oh. Wow. Yes, I would love to have the opportunity.”

 

Yet again, no one spoke for about five seconds. One of Carol’s most effective strategies, both in business and personal relationships, was to force herself to be comfortable with pauses and sustained eye contact. If she remained silent, or maintained unwavering eye contact with someone, she often drew more information out of whoever she was talking to. It made people uncomfortable - people are generally painfully averse to long breaks in conversation or what is perceived to be a breach of social manners - but Carol almost reveled in it. However, this strategy didn’t work here. No other words came from Therese, so Carol spoke again.

 

“Wonderful. I didn’t get a very good look at your work, and I would like to review it. Are you prepared for that?”

 

“Yes, I could show you my portfolio. Anytime.”

 

Carol smiled. Therese seemed eager.

 

“Wonderful. Since you’re staying in the building, why don’t you come up to my apartment and bring it. Are you available this evening at 6pm?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m in 2329. I’ll expect you at 6.” She hung up. She knew that her invitation to her apartment was forward, but she had thought about this girl several times over the past week or so, and she needed to satisfy her curiosity. Still, there was a reluctance that worked its way into her mind as she continued to think about it. Did she ever learn from her mistakes? At 36, she knew that she should know better, but her voracious appetite always seemed to win.

 

* * *

 

 

As Therese watched the elevator numbers change on the digital screen, creeping up to 23, she looked down at herself. She had been confused as to the tone of this meeting, and she didn’t want to overdress, but she also didn’t want to look like she didn’t take it seriously. She decided on a pair of dark jeans with a tight-fitting, cowl-neck green sweater that matched her eyes. As the elevator finally hit 23, Therese’s heart began to beat even faster than it had been, which she didn’t know was possible. She was already so enamored with this woman, drawn to her by some invisible force that tricked her into believing that this woman could possibly be interested in her based on their two extremely brief interactions. _But why is she inviting me to her apartment? Why aren’t we meeting at a coffee shop or some other more neutral, appropriate location?_ She started to feel as if her thoughts were spinning too fast, convincing her that no, she wasn’t crazy, this woman had made a bold move by inviting her into her home when they had barely met before. But as soon as she finished the thought, she then convinced herself the other way, that it meant nothing and the woman had to be straight, anyway.

 

She got out of the elevator and looked at the sign that told her which rooms were left and which were right. The hallway looked different from Noelle and Dylan’s hallway - it appeared longer and sparser. She was suddenly aware that the hand holding the vinyl handles of her new portfolio was sweating. She wiped her right hand on her jeans as she approached 2329, then took a deep breath and knocked confidently.

 

As the door opened, Therese looked directly into Carol’s eyes, despite the overpowering desire to study everything but her face first. Carol smiled, a beautiful, open mouthed smile that revealed her straight, white teeth.

 

“Come in.” Carol stepped aside and held the door open for Therese. “Would you like a drink?”

 

As Carol turned from Therese to walk over to the kitchen, Therese allowed herself to look at Carol carefully, knowing she could visually devour her with whatever hunger she wanted to as long as Carol wasn’t watching her. She wore a form-fitting long sleeved black shirt tucked into a pair of wide-leg, white trousers that tied with a ribbon into a bow around her waist. Therese could see the faint outline of her bra through the back of the skin-tight shirt, lost in the process of tracing its outline with her eyes. The opening of cabinets and clinking of glasses that Carol had been retrieving suddenly stopped, and she saw Carol’s head turned just slightly, as if she were looking straight across her own shoulder without turning to look at Therese at all.

 

“What’s your poison?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Carol picked up a bottle of vodka off a small table on one side of the kitchen which held an array of expensive liquors. Therese watched Carol’s hands quickly but smoothly pour it into two short, round glasses that looked like they should hold Old Fashioneds. As she turned around to face Therese, she held out the drink in her right hand, her long, elegant fingers wrapped around the glass, and looked straight into Therese’s eyes. She had a mischievous, close-lipped smile and her eyes looked at Therese with an expression of fierce, unshakable confidence.

 

* * *

 

“These are good.” Carol was sitting on a firm, upholstered chair that had metal studs lining the outside borders of the chair back and along where the upholstery met the legs of the chair. Her long, straight lower right leg was crossed over the left, her pant leg slightly lifted by the tension created by her position as she leant down on a small table that held Therese’s drawings. Carol flipped through them carefully, appraisingly. Therese mused that she looked like a queen on a throne.

 

Therese watched Carol’s face as she sorted through, but saw no clue as to what Carol was thinking. She found herself looking carefully at the details of Carol’s face. There were very fine, whispered lines that delicately extended from the outside corners of her eyes, and Therese wished she could touch them, to make Carol smile again just so she could see them wrinkle slightly. Carol’s eyes were focused down on the drawings, so she didn’t have the pleasure of admiring their intense blueness. But as she allowed her eyes to settle on Carol’s lips, coated in a light layer of red lipstick, her mind began to wander even farther from the current moment. That lower lip was visible from the top now, since Carol’s head was bent forward. How soft, how full it appeared. She had a burning desire to know whether those lips had ever touched a woman’s body, whether they had ever opened for the sole purpose of releasing her tongue to lick languidly up a woman’s wet slit. Therese could feel herself getting wet just from the thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Looks like things could get interesting soon. Thoughts? How many womens' bodies do we think Carol has licked? ;)


	7. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are mostly with Carol in this chapter, though I do dip into a little bit of Therese at the end.

 

There was a game, and Carol had become an expert. Oftentimes, things unfolded in a fairly straightforward way. The interest, the evasion, the pursuit, and finally - going in for the kill. Circumstances were presented in different ways and each conquest could change moment-to-moment. Carol enjoyed the challenge; the unknown of what twists would be thrown her way at any juncture excited her and ignited her endless need for gratification by her own efforts. And indeed, gratification she got - in many ways.

 

* * *

 

 When Carol had first seen Therese in the elevator, the outline of her small body was completely visible beneath her soaked clothes, which she knew as soon as she glanced at her for a fraction of a second when she walked in could be better and more thoroughly viewed if she were standing behind her in the back of the elevator. She allowed herself to collect her thoughts, collect the vibe of the air around this young creature, and to her pleasure, her intuition told her what she wanted to hear. After their brief exchange, Carol’s phone rang and interrupted whatever next step she was considering.

 

“Carol Aird.”

 

“I know you had a lot to do today, but I’ve been waiting for you for hours, baby. Are you almost here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She got off at “12”, thinking with slight annoyance that she should get that pleading call right as she was about to arrive anyway. Carol remembered entering 1203 and throwing her long, black, wet umbrella carelessly on the floor as she stalked toward her prey.

 

* * *

 

 Carol thought carefully about what she wanted to do next concerning the position she had made available through Harge last week. She tended to have the foresight to create spaces and opportunities that, even if she did not end up needing to use, her quick mind had already ensured she had the option. Putting this girl in the unnecessary design position was the simple route, and she had been fairly confident it was the one she would take when she had begun this endeavor. But as she looked at these drawings, she momentarily let her mind truly engage and think about work. Many of the pieces were digital in origin, and crafted with care and attention to detail. However, as she began to get deeper and deeper through the papers towards the back of the portfolio, she realized she was looking at hand-drawn designs.

 

She had already chosen six of her art employees she could possibly send to Johnson should he choose their firm, then would whittle it down to four if Johnson didn’t demand more. It also allowed her to require them to submit their best recent work so she could pick the best four. She liked to have options. But as she studied these hand-drawn ads and logos, she saw something in them that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She was engrossed in them, wondering why they looked so familiar and seemed to touch her in such a visceral way. She didn’t always have the best self-appraisal, as she often avoided too much self-reflection, but she realized as her eyes focused in and out on these designs that they reminded her of someone else’s. One of her first jobs in marketing had been in copywriting, but she often found herself sketching figures and patterns that enhanced her taglines and inspired her mind to let more ideas flow. She had let more and more of that connection to her creativity float away as the years went by as she became more powerful - her time was spent mostly making decisions, meeting clients, and curating the firm’s portfolio as a whole. Something many people at the firm did not know, however, was that she had designed their intricate, obsessively detailed logo herself.

 

* * *

 

 That first drink turned into two, and then three. Carol had invited Therese onto the couch under the guise of wanting to look at more of Therese’s drawings, both women leaning over the same small coffee table so that they could look closer at the small designs. They sat in close proximity, but Therese’s thigh was a good 8 or 10 inches from Carol’s. Carol held one of the drawings up, as if to get better light, but instead moved her eyes stealthily to the clock on the living room wall. 8:26. _A lovely time._

 

Carol placed the drawing back down on the table, looked over at Therese, and knew exactly what she would do next.

 

_A cowl-neck sweater._

The perfect garment for distributing light kisses or long licks along the exposed neck, with a neckline malleable enough to be pulled aside to gently bite at the spot between the neck and shoulder before traveling back up her neck with her lips, perhaps ending with a slow, torturous lick under an earlobe, then up to the spot of tender flesh behind the ear. And perhaps another gentle bite once she reached that destination - but she liked to play some things by ear.

 

_A pair of clinging, but not skin-tight jeans._

While jeans that were too tight precluded access, jeans of the type Therese was wearing were perfect for unbuttoning and unzipping slowly as mouths danced together, and Carol could slide her hand agonizingly slowly under a pair of panties to begin her conquest without pulling them down, with the added bonus of the limited space between jeans and skin creating a tight glove for her hand in between, adding pressure but limiting movement for a prolonged, teasing introduction.

 

_Hair down._

Long, flowing hair was perfect for gliding her long fingers through, gently caressing then giving it a slight tug to up the intensity as they transitioned into more serious activities.

 

The sequence of events was already thought out in her mind, the kisses and bites on the tip of her tongue, the caresses and touches on the tips of her fingertips.

 

But before all that, the next step was always an intense, penetrating look in the eye as she closed in on a beautiful, lust-filled, but usually terrified-looking face.

 

She moved almost imperceptibly towards Therese, looked into her eyes, and paused. The beautiful face looking back at her was not an open book. It was placid, calm, unruffled. She saw desire, but it was controlled and contained. It did not emanate out her pores and pool out around her in a puddle of surrender, instead it was held delicately but firmly within the confines of her small but strong frame.

 

As she continued to look at those green eyes, there was suddenly a rocketing shiver flying through her body, originating on her left thigh, just above the knee. She looked down to see a small hand laying gently against her thin, airy pants. The tightly woven fabric created a layer of protection, but somehow, the thousands of microscopic squares of exposed skin guaranteed that she could feel the light, ghostly presence of Therese’s skin against hers. Carol continued to look down at the small hand, avoiding Therese’s gaze as she tried desperately to control her rapid breathing, which was making her chest rise and fall. She was sure that she looked completely flustered, her skin flushed and hot. She felt out of control and couldn’t seem to get a grip on herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to give herself a momentary reprieve from the sensory overload she was experiencing, then laid one of her manicured hands on top of Therese’s, gripping it lightly as she finally met Therese’s eyes and smiled.

 

She kept her hand on Therese’s for just a few more seconds, then smoothly removed it to reach over to one of the drawings that had slid farther and farther across the table as they had been shuffling through papers.

 

Carol looked fixedly down at a logo.

 

“This is wonderful work. I actually have a potential account that would, if secured, put us in charge of a million-dollar ad campaign. Would you be interested? It’s possible that it would require you to travel between two offices, as the client may need designers on-site.” Carol swallowed hard, trying to let the change of subject reel her back in from her physical unraveling.

 

Therese stayed quiet, but a slow smile started to spread across her mouth. It was slight and subdued, but undeniably genuine.

 

“I’d travel anywhere for an opportunity like that.” She stared at Carol.

 

“Well, now that I think of it, let me get you his business card. I’ll bring you to meet him, if you’d like. I think you’d really impress him. Look him up a bit before and get a sense of his history. Knowing his achievements will give you an easy in to a topic he will unquestionably want to delve into.” Carol knew she could kill two birds with one stone here - if she brought Therese to meet Johnson, she could dangle the talent in front of him and at the same time, fulfill her own selfish desire to collect more information on Therese, who was turning out to be an enchanting little mystery.

 

* * *

 

 As Carol walked away into another room, Therese stared at the back of her body glide across the floor, somehow appearing to float silently despite the fact that she was wearing three-inch heels. Her pants were modest in the sense that they didn’t cling all the way down her leg, but they did follow the curve of her behind intimately before dropping off into a wider fit. She now knew what those hidden thighs felt like under her hands, their slender but muscular curvature that seemed to dare her hand to explore more.

 

She somehow, despite what had just happened, was keeping herself together. Touching Carol was not something she imagined she would do in her wildest dreams, but her physical reaction to being even remotely near this woman had her entire body alive and singing with want. Perhaps it was the slow confidence she had gained over her years of topping her often timid sexual partners that enabled her to make such an audacious move, but she had the feeling that she would have done it no matter her personal disposition. Carol’s eyes, her perfume, the way she carried herself all drew Therese toward her like a magnet, like gravity. Even the invisible aura that surrounded her seemed to seep into her pores and leave her no choice but to reach out and touch her.

 

Therese stood up from the couch and walked over into the kitchen, attempting to think of something else and imagine what she would say next. When Carol walked out of that office, what would she do next? Would it be time for Therese to leave? She was suddenly shaken from her dreamy reflection on what had just happened and began to fidget, looking around at the beautiful items adorning the apartment. She came to the kitchen counter and laid her hands on it, allowing her body to sink into them just the slightest bit. A small, bright piece of paper lodged against the back corner of the counter caught her eye. She recognized it as a sticky note.

 

_I miss you. And your tongue._

 

She stared at the little heart beneath it. Before she could even decide what to think, she looked away quickly as if she were looking at something horrible, unbearable. As her eyes looked for anywhere else to settle, she noticed a small basket on the counter that held keys, hand lotion, and other miscellaneous items. On top laid a small bottle of men’s cologne and a travel-sized bottle of men’s shaving cream.

 

 _What the fuck?_ Therese had no idea what to think. _What is going on here? What am I doing here? I just made a move on this woman and she basically rejected me. Is she married? How do I get the hell out of here?_

 

Suddenly Carol walked out of the office, smiling, and moved towards Therese. Therese suddenly felt small, insignificant, like she wanted to retract herself in. She didn’t want Carol to come any closer. Carol held out the business card and Therese took it, making sure not to make any contact with Carol’s hand as she did so.

 

“Thank you. I better be going, I have plans tonight.”

 

Carol was looking at her, seemingly confused, though Therese could tell that she was trying desperately to control it.

 

“All right. Well I will let you know about a possible date for you to meet Johnson, the man I was telling you about. Can I use the number that’s written on your portfolio to call you?”

 

“Sure, that’s fine.” Therese didn’t smile, and simply turned and walked towards the door, opening it herself. She felt Carol rush up behind her to hold the door open.

 

“Talk to you soon, Therese,” she said amiably, but Therese was already six feet down the hallway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Thoughts?


	8. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... this chapter is a bit different in that the second part includes a flashback to before our two ladies met. The flashback is a bit of a treat for myself, but I think others may enjoy it as well. ;)
> 
> For those of you who are not fans of that type of content, don't worry - there are still important things to learn about our favorite fearless predator in this scene. As always, I try to always have a reason for the conversations and moments I describe, so know that it is not 100% indulgence - so pay attention!

Therese made her way down Carol’s hallway and pressed the “down” button outside the elevator repeatedly until it finally arrived. There was a young man wearing black glasses and sporting a man bun holding a leash which wrapped around the thick neck of what appeared to be a French bulldog. She got on, moving backward after pressing “17” to catch a breath after her hurried exit from Carol’s. She looked down to see the dog looking at her, watching her intently, unmoving, almost as if it were a statue or was waiting for her to make a move that would then inform its own next action. The elevator stopped at the 20th floor and the man got out, the dog looking back at Therese as it disappeared down the hall.

 

Once inside the apartment, Therese threw everything onto the floor of the kitchen and collapsed on the leather couch. She had no idea what to do next, so she pulled her phone out of her pocket. It would be dinner time in LA, but she decided she needed to hear a familiar voice.

 

N: “Hey! You finally called me back!” Noelle sounded happy and energetic.

 

T: “Yeah, sorry, it’s been a crazy few days.”

 

N: “It’s cool. How are my babies?”

 

Therese sat halfway up and glanced around the apartment in search of the cats. They were nowhere to be found.

 

T: “They’re good.”

 

N: “Are you all right? You sound weird.”

 

T: “I don’t know. I’m just… ugh. I don’t know.”

 

N: “Oh good, well that really clears things up.”

 

T: “I know. Okay, so, remember that woman I was talking about the night before you guys left? Carol Aird?”

 

N: “Yeeeeeesssss...” Noelle drew out the word and Therese could hear the amusement and expectation in her voice.

 

T: “Well she taped her business card to the apartment door the other day. She must have put it there while I was at Lauren’s.”

 

N: “Oh shit! So did you call her?”

 

T: “Yeah. She saw one of my drawings that day I met her in the elevator so she wanted to see my portfolio. Apparently she manages some marketing company and might have a job opening.”

 

N: “Oh  _ reeeeeeally _ ?” Noelle continued her suggestive tone. “So did you meet up with her?”

 

T: “Yeah I went up to her apartment. She lives on 23. I uh… I sort of made a move on her.”

 

N: “WHAT! My Therese! My heart is swelling with pride.”

 

Therese heard muffled sounds on the other end of the line.

 

Noelle spoke away from the phone. “She hooked up with that woman.” She heard a laugh and more mumbling and knew it was Dylan.

 

N: “He’s asking if there is a husband. He just doesn’t want to admit that I was right about her. Or he’s still talking about someone else, but whatever.”

 

T: “Ok stop, stop. I don’t know if there’s a husband, but there are men’s toiletries on her kitchen counter. And a sticky note from… someone who misses her tongue. Or maybe she wrote it about someone else’s tongue. I have no idea but I had to get the fuck out.”

 

N: “Wait so you hooked up and then found out someone else lives there?”

 

T: “We didn’t hook up! I have no idea if someone lives there! She totally ignored me touching her leg, too, so I think I just made a fucking fool of myself.”

 

N: “Okay. I think I get it. I guess. So… is she married or what? Is she gay?”

 

T: “I HAVE NO IDEA.” Therese was raising her voice, insanely agitated that Noelle didn’t have an answer for her, but then Therese realized… an answer to what? Noelle didn’t even know what had happened, how could she have any answers? She realized that what she was really irate about was the fact that she was actually  _ there  _ and still had no idea what was going on.

 

Noelle tried to pry for more information but eventually gave up when she realized how upset Therese had become. She asked Therese if she had been out lately or called any of her other friends. Therese remembered that her friend Jared from grad school had texted her a few days ago to see if she wanted to hang out while she was uptown, but she had turned him down, citing her work schedule and that she really needed to work on her drawings. She knew she should go out, interact with other humans, and get out of this tiny whirlwind of confusion and obsession she was currently trapped in, but the strength of its blonde, perfumed vortex kept pulling her back in with elegant, manicured hands, preventing her from even  _ wanting _ to escape it.

 

After she hung up with Noelle, she realized that she hadn’t thought about how whatever just happened could affect her chance to meet this client Carol had talked about. She had waited years for an opportunity like this to come up. Did she just destroy it by touching this woman, completely unsolicited? She chastised herself for making such an uncharacteristic move when there was something actually important on the line. But Carol had still offered to call her about it, even after Therese had touched her. Was Carol so clueless - and straight - that she had not even recognized Therese’s action as a sexual advance? She felt as if every encounter with this woman, instead of giving her more information, just generated more questions.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Two Weeks Before the Rainy Day in the Elevator _

 

On the last Friday of September, Carol arrived home from the office exhausted and incredibly agitated. Two of her subordinates had escalated a disagreement in the leadership meeting to an all-out shouting match. Playing “mom” to grown adults was not in her job description - and, more importantly, behaving like uncontrolled assholes was not in her subordinates’ job description, and they were lucky she wasn’t in a mood in which firing two shit-stirrers would give her great pleasure.

 

She dropped her purse on the counter and threw her keys into the small basket she kept there. She hated clutter, so all loose items were assigned to a specific place. In a fit of stress, Carol had cleared the apartment last week, ruthlessly throwing out any miscellany that stood in the way of her disciplined and streamlined lifestyle. The basket was now empty save a few pens and a smaller, cardboard box which she kept near the door since she needed to use it daily.

When she threw her keys into it and heard the sharp pang of the keys hitting the bottom of the basket, she felt a tiny wave of satisfaction.

 

Making her way across the apartment, she thought she noticed the smell of flowers. It was the slightest waft, but when she looked around, she didn’t see any source of such a smell and so walked on. She stopped right in the middle of her bedroom and stared straight ahead, both hands trying to unhook her left earring. She decided right then. After a moment’s pause, she kept walking towards her dresser as if she had never stopped, as if there had been no interruption in her purposeful, efficient movements. Jewelry was laid carefully in its proper place, then heels pulled off and placed on the white shelves in her closet that were lined with shoes, mostly in black, tan, gray, and white.

 

She came back into the bedroom and began unbuttoning her shirt. She slid it off, stretching her arms overhead as soon as they were free. She turned her attention now to her skirt, which had a narrow, delicate zipper along the side, almost invisible between the folds of the surrounding fabric. She lifted her hands to the top of the zipper at her waist, then unzipped it in one firm, swift motion. It met the slightest hesitation as it passed over her hips, then quickly fell to the floor in a shapeless cloud of silky fabric. She peeled back the sheets on one side of the bed and stacked two pillows against the headboard. She slid open the bottom drawer of her nightstand and paused. 

 

Two trays were laid side-by-side in the drawer, one with an assortment of electrical devices in various shapes and colors, and the other with the implements she desired on this particular night. There were four. Three were black, all identical and of the same length, girth, and curvature. One of these three laid naked in the tray, while the other two were still in their original packaging. The last, which was in the back of the tray farthest from the drawer opening, was blood red, and slightly longer and thicker than the others. She reached for it slowly, wrapping her long fingers around it. Her red nails matched it exactly, as if her hand were made to hold it.

 

She laid back on the bed and dimmed the bedroom light with the remote on her nightstand. She sighed deeply, the first of many attempts to slow her breathing to a more relaxed pace. The stress of her daily grind and the person she had to be at work - the stress of the person she had molded herself to be - was always with her. It clung to her like the dirt and grime of New York clung to its own sidewalks and buildings. There were many ways people dealt with stress, but Carol’s preferred method always included a powerful physical release - whether hers or someone else’s. 

 

Despite the inherent loss of control and abandonment of inhibitions associated with orgasm, Carol found that for the most part, they gave her more control. Giving one away gave her energy, recharging something deep inside her that begged to be validated. It begged for reassurance that the world was not spinning out of control, even in the midst of what should be a complete whirlwind of chaos and pleasure. Having one herself served a similar purpose - she knew what she wanted and how to get herself there. She had routines and preferences that she had followed for years. She knew exactly what pressures, shapes, and sensations her body responded to, as well as the lighting and tactile surroundings that best enhanced her process.

 

Tonight was another of those practiced experiences, a script she often followed. As she began her usual reel of images and memories, she let her hand lay lightly on top of her mound, her panties still on and providing a light friction that teased perfectly. She slipped the other hand under one of the cups of her bra, massaging her breast gently and escalating the pressure until she was squeezing it firmly. After a minute or so, she knew she would have sufficient lubrication to move on to the next step. She slid her panties off quickly, dropped them off the side of the bed, and picked up the red dildo. She began touching the head of it delicately against her opening, swirling continuously, then slowly inching it in until she felt resistance and couldn’t go any farther. Memories of sordid affairs - leaning a girl up against the wall of her bedroom and pounding her relentlessly, going down on a married woman in a bathroom stall as her husband sat in the ballroom at one of their client functions - these anonymous, but dangerous and exciting memories gave her the motivation and desire she needed to start fucking herself forcefully, the red phallus pushed so hard that it began to give her small stings of pain. She used her middle finger to rub the left side of her clit, the way she liked it. This was a technique she used only when she was alone, as for some reason it made her feel vulnerable to need to ask for something so specific to her individual preferences when with a partner. Soon, the combination of her movements and memories compounded enough to bring her the release she desired. It was only a second - one microscopic moment of pleasure - in which she allowed herself to lose control. As soon as she came back to her reality, she reigned in whatever part of her had fallen off its assigned shelf in her mind and immediately moved to clean up before she could finally fall asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that we have yet to see Carol's thoughts after her and Therese's awkward goodbye - don't worry, they're coming. Just like Carol.
> 
> Sorry, couldn't resist that inane joke.
> 
> Meanwhile, what are your thoughts on this chapter?


	9. Volcano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are... more, more, more. We volley back and forth between Carol and Therese.

Carol watched Therese stride quickly down the hall, portfolio swinging exaggeratedly forward and back with the pace of her walking. She shut the door and turned toward the now quiet apartment, which she suddenly felt was full of a suffocating dubiety. _What the fuck just happened?_ Carol had been gone for only a few seconds, maybe ten or fifteen. As she walked out of the office, trying to regain her composure after Therese’s gentle but purposeful touch had simultaneously ignited her every cell and inflamed her rarely seen panic mode, she suddenly looked up to find Therese standing at the counter, perfectly still. When she looked up at Carol, her eyes we filled with an emotion Carol couldn’t quite place. Therese held her gaze for what felt like only a fraction of a second, then looked away as if looking at Carol was repulsive, or set something off within her that made her skin crawl. She was utterly bewildered by this sudden shift, something clearly powerful, as it was enough to be triggered in the span of fifteen seconds.

 

Carol leaned against the door. She was incredibly uncomfortable, feeling as if her emotions and bodily responses had a life of their own. They were tumbling, rolling, sprinting away at a pace she couldn’t catch up with. This girl had somehow jabbed a spear into Carol’s most prized possession - her ability to control not only herself, but those around her. There was no reason for her not to have taken Therese’s small hand, moved it farther up her leg as she gave her an aggressive glare, then pushed the girl onto the couch to begin claiming her with her hands and mouth. Carol’s unquenchable, raging sexual appetite always prevailed in whatever obstacle it faced. Yet somehow, she had stopped herself. She had already had her plan of attack planned, too. But she didn’t execute. She had controlled herself - in an entirely different way than she usually did. And the girl had run off as if Carol had been chasing her with a machete. She wondered if her hesitation and seemingly nervous response to Therese’s touch had made the girl feel rejected. Or worse yet, had made Carol come off as weak or unsure of herself. It was a feeling she loathed and avoided at all costs.

 

She noticed the slight smell of alcohol in the air and suddenly felt nauseous. She grabbed the glasses from the coffee table and placed them in the sink, filling them with cool water but not putting them in the dishwasher. It was unlike her to leave dishes in the sink, but she felt that at this moment, she couldn’t put them away. She glanced around the counters to take stock of what other junk she may have allowed to accumulate, and her eyes fell on her key basket, which always seemed to be the first thing that refilled with crap, like it had an insatiable hunger for clutter. Perched precariously on top was Harge’s cologne and a travel-size can of shaving cream. She stood for a moment in silence, her brain catching up to what she was seeing.

 

It was exactly the type of situation where, ten years ago, she probably would have dissolved into tears, but she of course did not. She could feel her breathing intensify, and she grabbed the can of shaving cream and whipped it violently across the room. It slammed into the kitchen wall and exploded on impact, shaving cream blossoming out of the can unstoppably like magma out of a volcano. There was a noticeable, splintered deep chip in the wall that created a spot of white on the perfectly painted red wall, the chipped plaster and cracks in the paint creating a spot of weakness that left Carol seething with hatred.

 

* * *

 

Therese spent the next two days bent over Noelle’s metal desk, furiously drawing and shading, blaring music to ensure that there was not an iota of space in her mind to think about anything other than what she was doing. The desk had no drawers or table around it, so she was littering the surrounding floor with crumpled papers, different pencils and writing implements, and empty coffee mugs. There had been no further contact from Carol, and Therese didn’t expect any.

 

The day after the incident at Carol’s, Therese had gotten the nerve to finally call Lauren to give her more of an explanation than the text she had sent her the morning after their tryst - that she was sorry and didn’t mean to do that to her. She now felt the need to explain further, as Lauren’s lack of response to her pathetic attempt at an apology was starting to haunt her. She thought about calling her, but decided to text her, knowing she was a coward for doing so.

 

T: Hey. I know you don’t want to talk to me but I just want to say something.

L: What?

T: I’m sorry I haven’t reached out since that morning. I feel terrible and I know you must hate me.

L: I don’t hate you, but you hurt me. You’re incredibly selfish and think you can just bowl people over. I should’ve ended it way before you did, but I was hoping if I waited long enough you’d finally show some emotion. Whatever. Is that all?

T: I guess. I just… I’m sorry.

L: You’re alone for a reason. I hope you can find someone you can open up to and let them in.

 

Therese didn’t answer. She was angry, wanting to say something to defend herself, but she knew she had no leg to stand on. She kept herself close, closed off, safe. It wasn’t necessarily that she wanted to - at least rationally. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to land, and no one to catch her if she fell. It was unlike Lauren to say something so bluntly, as her timidness was something that was ever-present in their relationship - and one of the reasons Therese had broken up with her. But if this girl - this quiet, kind-hearted girl - had felt strongly enough about it to tell Therese, she knew it must be obvious. She was lucky that Lauren was so kind - even after what Therese had done, she still hoped Therese would find some emotional fulfillment. It made her feel even worse about the whole situation, and about her own inability to create just one crack or chip in the calm, undisturbed wall around her heart.

 

* * *

 

Carol had been a monster at work, unable to find the patience for the slightest of mistakes or inconveniences. Her employees were used to it - though Carol was almost always even and fair, there were rare times when she seemed to be knocked off her pedestal built on unwavering professionalism. Carol knew they were warning one another about “the mood” behind her back, as she saw the trepidation and delicateness of many of her employees as they entered her office for direction or feedback on something.

 

Harge had been traveling for several days, gone to visit his parents in Virginia taking care of some of the company’s quarterly financial review. Carol hated when he went there, knowing that he would come back with some unsolicited advice or unnecessary feedback from his father. However, she was immensely grateful to have him out of her hair for a few days, and she had ignored his call last night, unable to bring herself to listen to his voice. She wondered if he had shaved his face in the past few days.

 

An hour after she arrived home that night, she heard her phone ringing and dug around her purse looking for it. When she couldn’t find it immediately, she impatiently turned it upside down and dumped it messily on the counter. When her phone tumbled out, she looked at the display to see Harge’s name. She hesitated for a moment, asking herself whether she could deal with this calmly right now. She decided to pick up the phone and get it over with.

 

C: “Carol Aird.”

 

H: “You know, you don’t have to answer that way when it’s me. I know you know who it is.”

 

Carol was silent. He was already annoying her.

 

H: “Anyway, I wanted to check in and see how things were going at the office. Have you talked to Johnson yet this week?”

 

C: “No. I was planning on taking him to the Rose Bar on Saturday.”

 

H: “Do you have something to show? We’re running out of time. Dad is asking about when we’re going to close.”

 

Carol sighed audibly.

 

C: “Harge, I’m not in the mood for this. I know what I’m doing. Every time you go down there you seem to forget how this works. When have I missed a deal?”

 

Harge was quiet, but Carol wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from asking more questions. Sure enough, he continued.

 

H: “So are you offering the designers?”

 

C: “I had thought I was going to bring one that’s doing hand-drawn logos and print ads. They were exactly the thing he’s going to be looking for. Once he agrees to my angle on the campaign.”

 

H: “You ‘had thought’ you’d bring one? Are you not going to now?”

 

Carol was livid. Not only was he was asking her something she didn’t have the answer to, he was bringing up that feeling of nausea and regret she felt every time she thought about Therese leaving. She wanted to scream at him, destroy him for having the audacity to continue to leave his belongings in her apartment despite her express demands to leave no trace of his existence, but she knew she couldn’t. Too much was riding on it. Too much was _always_ riding on him, and she resented him for it.

 

C: “I will let you know how it goes.”

 

She hung up. After days, she had still left the shaving cream on the floor by the wall, unable to bring herself to even get close to it. She sighed and grabbed a dish towel. As she began to walk away from the counter, she grabbed the cologne bottle in the basket and threw it confidently into the garbage.

 

* * *

 

Therese had just started to fall asleep. Despite the fact that it was 8:30pm on a Wednesday, she was exhausted from her late night hours of drawing, fueled by the coffee she was drinking round-the-clock. The shrill sound of her phone inserted itself strangely into her dream, clanging incessantly until it finally woke her out of it.

 

T: “Hello?”

 

C: “Hello Therese.”

 

Therese shot up in bed and could already feel her chest getting hot. She closed her eyes and waited.

 

C: “Well, I just wanted to call to see if you were still interested in meeting that potential client. I plan to invite him for drinks on Saturday and thought you could bring your portfolio. If you’re still interested, that is.” Carol realized she had repeated herself.

 

Therese thought for a moment, wracking her brain for a response. She had no expectation that Carol would call, so she hadn’t even imagined what she would say if she did. She decided she was going to put her pride aside and go after what she really wanted.

 

T: “Yes. I’m still interested.”

 

C: “Very well then. We’ll be at the Rose Bar at 7:30 on Saturday.”

 

T: “Ok.”

 

There was a pause.

 

C: “Therese, I’m very pleased that you’re going to show him your work. It is unique, and I think you will help me more than you know.”

 

Therese had no idea what to say to that.

 

T: “Ok.” She didn’t feel like saying anything else. She could sense Carol’s slight hesitation in candor and the pace of her words, and she didn’t want to talk too much and reveal her own nervousness.

 

C: “All right. Well I’ll see you then.”

 

T: “All right. Goodbye.”

 

She heard Carol quietly starting to say goodbye as she hung up the phone, but she had ended the call before Carol finished the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Carol. Imagine, our icy lady being cut off before she finished speaking. Who would dare do such a thing?
> 
> Comments inspire me to keep writing.


	10. Julia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, don't kill me, but there is some quasi-hetero sex at the beginning. But it's for plot development purposes so... give me a break. Plus, Carol is savage AF.
> 
> Also, I am writing these at an insane pace so check to make sure you've read everything.

_Four Years Earlier_

 

Harge was moving on top of her, kissing her slowly and gently. Carol was squirming around, trying to push him down and accelerate the process. She had already stripped off her dress hurriedly, leaving her in just her bra and panties. Harge seemed to want to prolong everything, running his hands over her body and gingerly through her hair. When he finally entered her, he started whispering in her ear.

 

“You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

 

Carol opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in frustration, wishing he would stop talking. She was trying to concentrate.

 

He continued. “You feel so good.”

 

Carol felt herself slipping backwards down her slope of arousal, further from what she sought.

 

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

 

She couldn’t see his face, as she couldn’t bear to look at the inevitable expression of disappointment she was bound to find there.

 

His silence finally gave her the peace she needed.

 

Earlier that day, she had strolled into a Starbucks on Lexington - not the one she usually frequented. She had a meeting at a client’s office not far from home, so she had decided to walk there. It was one of those crisp, blindingly sunny fall mornings, where the first whispers of cold weather lapped at exposed skin, but a quick stop in a patch of sunlight would warm it back up. Harge would be coming from the office and meeting her there, but she had left with plenty of time to spare and had been dreaming about another coffee, her morning espresso having not satiated her caffeine craving.

 

She waited in a brief line, looking down at her phone to answer work emails so as not to waste any possibly usable time.

 

“Can I help you?” The voice came from the counter that Carol was still standing a few feet away from, lost in an email. She finally looked up to find herself looking into the face of a young girl, maybe mid-twenties, with beautifully smooth olive skin, a pair of sparkling light green eyes, and dark, silky hair that was undercut on one side. A nose ring and full, pouting lips gave her a sort of classic-beauty-with-an-edge look. Carol didn’t miss a beat.

 

“Grande latte, two shots and skim, please.” She tilted her head and gave a miniscule, nearly unnoticeable smile, arching one of her eyebrows ever so slightly.

 

The girl smiled back.

 

“No sweetener?”

 

Carol dropped the smile and looked right at her.

 

“I don’t like it sweet.” She winked.

 

The girl gave a small laugh and grabbed a cup.

 

“And your name?”

 

“Julia.”

 

The girl placed the cup on the counter to be made, and looked back at Carol with a smirk.

 

“Enjoy, Julia.”

 

As Carol and Harge moved silently against one another, she mused on what her little coffee girl might be like in bed. Although Carol usually preferred to do the fucking when she was with a woman, the look of this girl, not to mention Carol’s current situation, led her into imagining this exotic-looking beauty filling her with one of Carol’s favorite implements - a red, silicone dildo that she kept locked in the bottom drawer of her vanity in the bathroom. She imagined the girl's full lips on her own, her gleaming eyes looking into her own lustfully. As the girl fucked her, Carol reached down to touch her own clit and pushed herself over the edge, her eyes closed the entire time.

 

* * *

 

Therese sorted through her drawings, separating them into piles, first by date created, then by subject type, then by drawing medium. She couldn’t decide how to organize them so that they looked like a coherent collection - did this portfolio even have a voice, or was it a conglomeration of fractured thoughts and inspirations? She was looking for something solid, a thread to tie it together so she could present this client of Carol’s with a concise but meaningful taste of her style. It was already Friday night, and she still had no idea how she wanted to arrange this. And they were going to a bar - how would she be presenting this? Laying drawings out on the bartop and hoping no one spilled drinks on them?

 

Worst of all, Therese had an overwhelming desire to talk to Carol. Even though she had made an incredibly stupid, impulsive move, and she had paid for it, she couldn’t help but blame Carol as much as she did herself. It was a thin argument, since her rational mind really couldn’t figure out where Carol had done anything wrong. Carol had never expressed any interest in her other than professionally. She had seen her drawings, offered her an opportunity, then gracefully let Therese’s advance pass without outwardly embarrassing her. Still, she hated how the situation had unfolded. She hated that shaving cream and that cologne. And most of all, she hated that fucking sticky note. It felt like a personal betrayal. Therese could not shake the thought, repeatedly having to remind herself that there was absolutely no evidence that this woman was even gay. Why shouldn’t she have those things there? Why shouldn’t she be married to a man? Why shouldn’t she be allowed to use her tongue for any purpose she liked? Why could Therese _only_ imagine that that purpose was to taste a woman?

 

Still, she felt as if she had been buried in an absurd hole of confusion and loneliness.

 

Still, her brain could not wrap itself around what had happened at Carol’s apartment.

 

Still, her overwhelming craving for a fix of Carol remained. It had seemingly come from nowhere, sprouting its way through the murky ground Carol had laid down over their possible connection.

 

* * *

 

Carol had spent the day at work Friday preparing the next stage of her pitch to Johnson, playing out his possible responses and how she would either confirm or debate them. It was work she loved to do - anticipating people’s reactions and strategizing how to either capitalize on them or work around them. However, the only thing she was worried about - the possible kink in her plan - was Therese. Carol knew Therese’s work was good and wouldn’t cause Carol embarrassment in front of Johnson. Carol also knew how to sell. She had the uncanny ability to shine up almost any garbage and sell it for at least a decent return - not that she often accepted work that was anywhere below her exceedingly high standard. The possible wrinkle came from _her_. Carol. She could feel the foggy cloud of distraction and lack of concrete thought whenever Therese was around, even when she just  _thought_ of her. The idea that she would be mixing this foreign feeling in with her work - where she was the unquestionable, unbreakable force of nature that no one could knock down - was making her anxious.

 

At 4:34pm, her phone rang. She did not recognize the number.

 

“Carol Aird.”

 

“Hello Mrs. Aird. This is Linda calling from Mr. Johnson’s office. I wanted to let you know that unfortunately Mr. Johnson will be unavailable for your meeting scheduled for tomorrow evening.”

 

Carol didn’t think at all before asking her next question. “May I ask why?”

 

“He had a pressing engagement that came up. I will contact you and let you know when Mr. Johnson is available to reschedule.”

 

Carol closed her eyes and sighed out. “All right. Thank you.”

 

She took the phone off her ear and looked at it, almost as if she didn’t know what it was. Why did she just say “thank you” to this woman? She should have hung up on her. She was ready for her body to react, for the hot anger she knew was coming whenever one of her conquests was delayed or obstructed, but she felt something else. At first she didn’t recognize it. She wasn’t fuming, she didn’t want to whip her phone at the wall. Instead, she felt the possibilities of the meeting, professional and otherwise, float away like a ship that she had jumped off a dock to get onto, absolutely sure that she would land it, when in fact she fell without preamble into a narrow ravine of gloom. She wasn’t incensed… she was disappointed.

 

* * *

 

At 6:04pm, Therese was heating up a dish of pasta bolognese she had taken home from the restaurant. Both cats were waiting patiently next to her at the microwave, no doubt smelling the meat and assuming that if they waited politely in line, she would pass the food out like at a family dinner. She wasn’t particularly hungry - her stomach had been turning since the morning thinking about tomorrow night. She still had no idea how to organize her presentation, and unlike almost every other time in her life when she needed to integrate her ideas and eventually settle on a course of action, she still felt as if she wasn’t getting any closer to a style she was comfortable with.

 

Her phone made the dinging noise of a text, and she realized then that she hadn’t turned her phone to silent this morning. Her phone could have been ringing and dinging at any point while she was at the restaurant, which always made her manager irrationally upset. _Thank god no one wants to talk to me._ As soon as she had the thought, she pushed it away. _You’re being a self-pitying baby._ She picked up the phone and silenced it. It was her.

 

C: Hi Therese, I hate to do this, but I have to cancel tomorrow. Johnson is unavailable. I’m not sure yet when we will be able to reschedule, but I assure you we will. So sorry.

 

Therese looked at it in awe. She had spent the last three days in a constant state of panic, doubting her every work, her every instinct, wondering whether she deserved an opportunity like this at all. She thought about how to respond, ultimately deciding that whether Carol was actually blowing her off or not, she wasn’t going to act like she didn’t care about the possible job position.

 

T: No problem. We can do it another time.

 

She saw ellipses appear on the screen, then stop. They started again, flashing along for what had to be 20 seconds, then stopped again. She stared at the conversation window for over a minute, waiting for another message to appear. It didn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Carol sat at her desk for over an hour, trying to focus on a sales report but checking her phone every couple minutes. She propped it up against her desk lamp so that she could see it light up if a text came through - just in case she didn’t hear the alert. As she looked over at it for the 30th time, she realized that she was waiting for something that had no reason to come. She hadn’t responded to Therese - what did she expect Therese would say? She reconsidered what she had thought about saying, then sighed and put her forehead to her desk, oriented toward the phone like a supplicant at the feet of a deity it had no reason to trust.

 

She suddenly picked up her phone as if possessed by some greater force and began to type quickly, then pressed the send button immediately, as if it were just the last letter of a word at the end of the text.

 

C: If you’re still available tomorrow, we could go over your portfolio again, now that you’ve probably had time to pare down what you’ll show. I can also give you more background on Johnson and his goals for the campaign so you can target it to that. I know what he likes and what he’s looking for.

 

Carol looked at what she wrote and reread it over and over, checking for all possible meanings it could have. She hadn’t even given herself the opportunity to interpret it after she wrote it, knowing that if she did, she may not have sent anything. Even though Carol hadn’t allowed herself to get near her true self much in the past several years, she did have the self-knowledge to know that if she had thought about it too much - if she analyzed it with her typical ruthless methods - she would have convinced herself that it made her too vulnerable. Something about this situation made her override the thinking portion of her brain. Something else drove her.

 

An hour later, there was still no response.

 

* * *

 

Therese was sitting on the couch watching Netflix, her body folded across a comfy chair, legs dangling over one of the arms. She stared absentmindedly at the TV, petting her one-eyed friend and feeling for the first time in days that she may actually be able to fall asleep. The first episode of her binge ended, and she reached behind her to the side table for her phone. She read the text Carol had sent and could feel her heart accelerate. Again, it had no overt sexual or romantic tones - it was an offer related to work. Why was she losing her mind every time this woman communicated with her? Therese had been hit on blatantly in gay bars by fairly attractive women before, and still never got flustered, never skipped a single breath. But even this innocent text sent her mind reeling.

 

“We can go over your portfolio again”... _maybe she can throw me over my portfolio on the coffee table..._

“I know what he likes”... _I’d love to know what she likes..._

She knew it was a bad idea - a terrible idea - but she couldn’t help herself. She decided to go with what her body was telling her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Carol caught Therese at a weak moment.


	11. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good luck with this. Let me just start by saying - I'm sorry. You'll see why.

Carol looked around the apartment with a critical eye, but saw nothing left to clean up or arrange. Her decision to give herself ample time to prepare was now biting her in the ass - she had nothing to do but fret and panic, and it was still a half hour before Therese was due to arrive.

 

When there was finally a knock at the door, Carol jumped up, looked at herself briefly in the hallway mirror, then put her hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. Therese was standing there, portfolio in hand, looking emotionless and calm.

 

“Hello Therese.” Carol smiled broadly. She couldn’t help herself; she hated to meet someone’s indifferent gaze with an obvious show of emotion, but it was as if something within her was pulling the sides of her mouth up involuntarily.

 

“Hello Carol.” Therese gave her a weak smile, looking in her eyes, then let them fall away towards the hallway behind Carol.

 

“Come in, please." Carol held the door open, feeling an intense burst of physical energy as she felt Therese walk by her, and though Therese was several inches from her, she felt as if she had brushed along every millimeter of the side of her body, as if there were some invisible halo of energy radiating off Therese that was dying to caress Carol’s skin.

 

Therese wasn’t wearing jeans this time. She had on a pair of black, tapered leg pants with nondescript black flats. Her blouse was white, a stunning contrast to her dark hair, which was tied up halfway, the top half pulled into a bun - exactly as it had been when Carol had devoured her with her eyes at that tenants meeting. As Carol thought back on the meeting, she realized how differently she felt now - her confidence in securing Therese as the next girl under her was now completely shaken. The blouse came to a soft v-neck on the girls chest, showing no cleavage but nonetheless flowing lovingly over the curves of her breasts. Carol only allowed herself a momentary glance at them, looking back up to Therese’s eyes to be sure she wasn’t caught. Luckily, Therese was already looking ahead, back into the living room.

 

“Can I take anything for you?” Carol asked, but looking at Therese, remembered that she only came from a few floors down - she wouldn’t have a coat.

 

“No, I’m all right.”

 

Therese walked slowly over to the living room, seeming to take her time. She placed her portfolio on the coffee table and looked back at Carol, who was still standing at the threshold between the entry hallway and kitchen, just looking at her.

 

Carol looked away and moved into the kitchen quickly. Once there, she turned away from the living room so that Therese could only see her back, then closed her eyes as she steadied herself with both hands on the counter. She took another deep breath. _Pull yourself together. This is what you do._ She felt better, reassured by her own self-affirmation. She went over to the liquor table and thought for a moment. She decided on a bottle of Maracame, having no criteria for her choice other than that it wasn’t vodka.

 

“I’m going to give you something different tonight.” She finally turned toward Therese, forcing her to meet her eye from the fifteen or so feet away that she stood. She was grateful that the kitchen counter bar was high enough to obstruct Therese’s view of her hands, which were shaking ever so slightly as she poured two generous glasses of tequila. She decided the left was hers and added an extra splash.

 

She gave Therese a small smile and waited.

 

Therese remained silent for a moment, looking at Carol, then finally spoke.

 

“What?”

 

For the first time since she arrived, Carol saw a glint of reaction in her eye. The tiniest hint of surprise. She had finally aroused a response. Therese asked the question as if she didn’t know what Carol was talking about.

 

“Tequila. Do you like tequila?”

 

“I don’t think I’ve had it since college, but sure.”

 

“I hope this will be a bit better than what you had in college.” She walked over and held the drink out to Therese. She had managed to control her shaking hand, straightened her back to give herself her usual height, and sat carefully on the couch. Therese still stood on the other side of the coffee table, arms at her sides.

 

“Sit.”

 

Therese looked at her and came over to the couch, sitting two feet away from her. Carol extended her arm out onto the back of the couch, orienting her crossed legs toward Therese as she sipped the drink in her other hand. It was a tactic she had learned in grad school - to take up space. To not shrink into herself as so many women often do. It was a power move, and she felt she needed it desperately right now.

 

She smiled at Therese. “Let’s take a look.”

 

* * *

 

Therese had put on four different shirts, checking herself from all angles to see which ones were tight enough to outline the curve of her breast and not just fall straight down without bowing back in to hug her waist. She picked a white v-neck, satisfied with its flattering but not too revealing fit. She realized once she finally walked into the kitchen that it was already almost 7:30 and she still hadn’t put everything back in her portfolio. She ran into the office, stuffing things into it in as organized a fashion as possible given her lack of time and outrageous nervousness.

 

When Carol opened the door, Therese immediately took stock of every detail of the sight in front of her. Carol was wearing pants again, but these were tighter and had a wide, smooth waistband that hugged her slender midsection. She had on red heels, which matched her red sleeveless shirt, which was sheer around the shoulders, with a darker red corset-shaped inner layer visible below. Her lipstick was also the same luscious red, and her hair was carefully styled into a few smooth, loose waves.

 

“Hello Therese.” She smiled a radiant, white-toothed smile. It was remarkable on Carol because she had only ever seen her smile once or twice.

 

“Hello Carol.”

 

“Come in, please.”

 

Therese walked by and once she emerged from the hallway, immediately set her eyes to the kitchen counter. No shaving cream, no cologne. The basket was empty save two black ink pens and a small cardboard box.

 

She barely noticed as Carol asked her if she could take anything, still thinking about the basket and why those things were now gone. Did someone put them away? Did someone come home to claim them? She suddenly wished the rest of the apartment were visible from the living room. How many bedrooms were there?

 

Carol’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

 

“I’m going to give you something different tonight.”

 

_What?!_

 

“What?” Therese felt something shooting around inside her, begging to be released but instead bouncing around and hitting random points under her skin, unable to escape.

 

“Tequila. Do you like tequila?”

 

Therese let herself breathe again.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they had begun sifting through the drawings, there was a knock on the door.

Carol seemed to jump, turning her attention to the door.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Therese watched her walk towards the kitchen, finally disappearing into the front hallway. She heard the door open, and there was an excited female voice.

 

“Hey you.”

 

She heard Carol begin speaking in almost a whisper, her words indistinguishable. Therese tried desperately to hear the conversation, but only heard bits of what the girl was saying, and none of what Carol was saying.

 

“.. _.I know you want… please… but…_ ”

 

Therese kept missing words in between, unable to get any understanding of the overall content of the conversation.

 

The door finally closed and Carol walked back over, looking slightly annoyed.

 

“Where were we?”

 

 

* * *

 

A soon as she heard the knock, her stomach dropped. She knew it wasn’t Harge, he had a key. There was no reason for almost anyone else to come to her door.

 

“Excuse me.” Therese looked at her blankly.

 

As soon as she opened the door, she felt pure panic multiplying inside her like some kind of out-of-control malignancy.

 

“Hey you.”

 

Tara was standing there, her long, brown hair down and framing her face, wearing a royal blue cocktail dress and simple gray heels. She had clearly been drinking - not drunk, but enough to have loosened her up to a flirty and suggestive mood.

 

“Tara, this is not the time.” She was whispering, almost silently mouthing the words.

 

“Why? You always say it’s _always_ the time. Come here.”

 

She moved suddenly towards Carol, reaching for her hips.

 

Carol backed away before she could get a good grip, feeling the girls fingertips scraping against her waist as she narrowly evaded her grasp.

 

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing. I get it. I’ll play along, but you won’t last long. I know you want it.”

 

Carol turned her head back towards the living room, praying to god that Therese couldn’t hear the conversation.

 

“Tara, I’ll call you later.”

 

“Please baby… I need you…”

 

“Tara, I have company.”

 

“But don’t you want my company?” She smiled, tilting her chin down as she looked up at Carol seductively.

 

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Carol closed the door, praying she wouldn’t come back and knock again.

 

When Carol returned to the living room, she sat back down quickly.

 

“Where were we?”

 

 

* * *

 

Therese had no idea what to think. Who was that? It sounded like a woman, and she sounded like she was pleading with Carol. She could feel the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing up, giving her that unmistakable feeling that something wasn’t right. She fought every urge to ask who it was, to ask how she knew whoever was at the door. Carol seamlessly transitioned back into talking through Therese’s work, but Therese didn’t move. She was staring at Carol and didn’t care if Carol noticed. Carol suddenly stopped talking, closed her eyes, and sighed, bowing her head just the tiniest bit. She lifted her head and opened them again, moving her eyes reluctantly to stare directly into Therese’s.

 

They remained still, staring at one another for what felt to Therese like an eternity. Carol’s blue eyes looked as if they were trying to see through her, or maybe to see something inside her. They looked desperate, pleading, and profoundly sad.

 

With absolutely no hesitation, Therese reached out to place her hand on top of Carol’s, which was laying defeatedly on her thigh. Carol looked down at it, then flipped her own hand palm side up so that their palms made full contact, laying on top of one another like flat stones, perfectly still.

 

 

* * *

 

After Therese had left, Carol collapsed onto the couch. The overpowering connection - made through eyes as much as through touch - had exhausted her. Therese had been the one to break physical contact, looking back down at the work in front of them. They had said nothing else related to the moment for the rest of the night, instead getting into a deep and intense conversation about Therese’s work, creating together an order and coherence to Therese’s portfolio presentation that left them both satisfied. But as soon as Carol had closed the door behind Therese, she felt empty. Nothing remained inside her, only a seemingly bottomless well of aching, hollow need.

 

* * *

 

Carol was still up at midnight, drinking a vodka tonic and unable to stop her mind from its incurable melancholy. She felt trapped, like she would do anything to escape this feeling. There was another knock on the door.

 

She knew who it would be, but she answered it anyway. Tara came walking in uninvited.

 

“You alone now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Carol still held her drink in her hand as Tara kicked off her heels and pushed Carol against the hallway wall. She untucked Carol’s shirt and pulled desperately down at the waistband of her pants, kissing the skin there as she simultaneously unzipped her pants and dragged them down. As soon as she felt the warm wetness of Tara’s tongue on her, she ran her hand through the girl’s brown hair then leaned back against the wall, surrendering to her own crushing self-loathing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all want to fucking kill me. I understand, I really do. 
> 
> Also, I want to thank everyone who has commented for being so great and supportive. Writing this is a joy, and to know people are enjoying it is the best motivation to keep going.
> 
> As always, please share your thoughts.


	12. Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm flipping back and forth between Carol & Therese quickly. More flashbacks to hopefully (start to) answer some of your questions.

_Two Years Ago_

 

“So Julia, what are you doing in Cleveland?”

 

Carol smiled at the girl’s question, raising her wine glass to her lips.

 

“I’m here on business.”

 

“What do you do?” She looked at Carol as if her answer might be the most important information she would ever hear in her life.

 

Carol looked down as she placed her glass on the bar, wanting to avoid the topic of work.

 

“I work in advertising. It’s not exciting. Let’s talk about something else.” She leaned on her forearms and faced the mirror behind the bar, then playfully glanced left moving only her eyes to look at the small brunette.

 

The girl smiled and let out a nervous little laugh. “Okay… what do you want to talk about?”

 

Carol turned to face her straight on and smiled mischievously, her mouth closed, watching the girls eyes widen a bit and then work their way down Carol’s face, settling on her lips.

 

* * *

 

The women’s bathrooms at lesbian bars were not exactly private, but there was a single-person bathroom in the back that Carol had spotted as they walked toward the back of the bar. The broken lock prevented the door from fully closing, so Carol kept one of her red heels pressed against it, the other held her up enough to rest her weight on her left hand on the edge of the sink. She had her face buried in the girl’s hair, the small girl’s body banging against the sink repeatedly, seemingly from the force of Carol’s fingers alone. She decided to risk it and took her right heel off the door, stabilizing her weight so that she could take her left hand off the sink and snake it around the front of the young girl, grazing her breast and then sliding it lower to give her the friction she needed.

 

The girl started gasping, letting out moans that Carol wanted to stifle with her hand, but they were both occupied. Carol had the fleeting thought that someone could potentially hear this girl’s caterwauling through the two inch opening in the door now that Carol was making no attempt to hold it closed. Then she remembered - she was Julia, and she was in Cleveland. _Who cares?_

 

As Carol pulled out of her, the girl closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh and said breathily, “That was amazing… Julia… what’s your last name?”

 

* * *

 

Carol left the bar at 11, returning to the hotel with the sole intention of going immediately to sleep. Unfortunately, Harge was still awake when she got back.

 

“Oh hey,” he said, not looking up from his laptop.

 

“What are you still doing up?” Carol started taking off her shoes and coat.

 

“Waiting for you. How was your night?”

 

“Fine.” Carol noticed that Harge had turned down the other side of the bed he was in, but she walked right past it and sat on the other queen-sized bed to remove her jewelry and pull sleeping clothes out of her bag.

 

“What were you doing?” Harge still didn’t look up, and spoke with a sort of hesitant but accusative tone.

 

Carol acted as if she hadn’t heard it.

 

“I’m going to get changed.” She walked toward the bathroom on the other side of the suite and shut the door. She opened her makeup bag in search of her moisturizer, digging through it when her fingertips hit something metal. She looked down to see her engagement ring and wedding band, mixed in carelessly with her makeup, having been abandoned quickly earlier, right before she went out the hotel room door. She sighed and zipped the bag closed. As she finished washing her face, she caught her reflection in the mirror and studied the fine lines starting to appear around her eyes and mouth, the few gray hairs that had grown their way quietly, surreptitiously into her golden hair, trying not to be seen. She closed her eyes.

 

When she came out of the bathroom, she stood in front of Harge’s bed and stared at him. When he finally looked up, he gave her a slight smile.

 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

 

Harge’s smile dissipated slowly, but he said nothing.

* * *

 

Therese had worked two doubles at the restaurant in the two days since her and Carol’s last meeting, coming home exhausted but in reasonably good spirits on Monday night. She had received a call from Dr. Springer during her shift and had spoken to him during her half hour break. He finally had a lead on a job at a small women’s magazine - it was temp-to-perm, so there was no guarantee it would materialize into anything long-term. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Therese immediately thought of Carol. There had been no more mention of rescheduling with Johnson, but she still felt an overwhelming desire to tell Dr. Springer that she was already pursuing a job. She knew, though, that it would be insane not to pursue Dr. Springer’s lead. She agreed to prepare a presentation of any of her work that may be relevant.

 

“Fantastic. I’ll call you with more details and a possible meeting date once I talk to them again.”

 

Therese wondered how she would find the motivation to prepare for another meeting - with an audience that would no doubt be looking for an entirely different sampling of her work than from what she and Carol had curated.

 

She looked through her portfolio again, removing the 10 or so pieces that had been paperclipped together - the ones she and Carol had agreed to show Johnson. She held them up to her nose, hoping she may be able to detect even a whisper of Carol’s perfume. She couldn’t. She settled for laying them out and running her fingers across the ridges in the paper created by her pencils and along the edges of the papers where she knew Carol’s fingers had been.

 

She felt as if she was floating, remembering how those fingers had felt on her own. How Carol’s eyes had tried to communicate something to her. Trying to reach out and touch something, something that, Therese felt, they had not tried to touch for a long time. Therese desperately wanted to let Carol touch it, and she was willing to open whatever part of her she needed to open to extract some of that sadness from Carol’s eyes. She would even carry some of it around herself, if that’s what it would take. She would pierce holes in her own closed off heart to allow flow back and forth. To allow that possible heartbreak to flow into her from Carol, and to pour out whatever she could to fill some of the cavernous emptiness in Carol’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

Carol had finally heard from Johnson’s office again, and had rescheduled their meeting for Thursday at 7:30. Carol immediately texted Therese.

 

C: I rescheduled with Johnson for Thursday at 7:30. Still the Rose Bar.

 

Therese responded within seconds.

 

T: That’s amazing. Thank you. I’ll be there.

 

Carol smiled to herself, unable to control it. She looked at Therese’s words, feeling an inner excitement snowballing as she thought about the guarantee that she would see Therese in a few days. But she realized it wasn’t soon enough. She wanted, _needed_ to see her sooner than that. She seemed to keep forgetting that Therese was sitting in this building, six floors down. Why was she only planning formal meetings? Why was she keeping so much distance between them when she could easily see her, probably whenever she wanted? Therese had just texted her. Maybe she was home. Why couldn’t she just open the door, walk to the elevator, press 17, and knock on her door? _What is stopping me?_

 

She stood up and looked down at herself. She had already changed from her work clothes into a pair of tight yoga pants and a tank top. She placed her hand on her stomach, feeling the stretchy teal fabric and thinking about whether she should change first. _Fuck it._

 

She grabbed her keys and walked out the door.

 

* * *

 

_Two Years Earlier_

 

“You dropped this bomb on me at 11pm in a hotel room. Do you expect me to be calm?”

 

Harge was pacing the divorce lawyer’s office, almost yelling, as Carol and the lawyer sat patiently, listening.

 

“Harge, you know that’s not true. This has been coming for a long time.”

 

“You mean because of you fucking every girl under the age of 25 that walks by?”

 

The lawyer looked slightly surprised, then looked over at Carol before quickly looking down at his desk. Carol just sighed and looked down at her nails, splaying out her fingers to examine them carefully. Her face showed no sign of distress or embarrassment.

 

Harge suddenly stopped, and as if switching to an entirely different personality, took a different approach. He kneeled in front of Carol on one knee, reaching to hold her hands in his own.

  
“Don’t do this. I know you love me. We can work something out. I know I can’t change you, but I will take the pieces of you I can get.” He looked as if he might cry, showing no concern at having the lawyer staring at them. “I love you.”

 

Carol looked away from his eyes and down at her lap, but kept her hands in Harge’s.

 

Harge stood back up.

 

“If you’re going to do this, we’re going to have to rearrange the firm. How do you expect me to explain this? You want them to know you’re jeopardizing the firm for all the young pussy you can’t seem to stop yourself from chasing?”

 

Carol looked up at him, finally showing some reaction - complete shock. She had never heard him speak that way.

 

“You need to control yourself. We can discuss the firm later. Right now we need to begin this paperwork.”

 

Harge stared at her. She knew him well enough to know that he couldn’t figure out what to do next. There were many times in their marriage when she would say or do something that threw him completely off, paralyzed him, as if he could not believe that such words could come out of a person’s mouth. Over the course of their 8 year marriage, she had slowly ascended a mountain of increasing rigidity and coldness, isolating herself and trying to separate her private desires from her professional life and the role Harge played in it. She could not find any other way to manage both except to put an uncrossable distance between them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol likes the young ones. Some things never change.
> 
> What do we think?


	13. Bourbon, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got long, so I decided to break it up into two. The first gives us Carol's point of view of their interaction, the next will give us Therese's. I think experiencing the same situation from both perspectives provides a great 360 degree view of their dynamic.

Carol stood on the elevator, bouncing one of her feet on her toes as she played with the jangling keys in her hand. She saw no one during the trip down six floors, not even in the hallway. She felt alone - she was in the world she knew, but roaming around as if she were some alien creature who had no way of telling if this was reality without anyone else around to confirm it. When she stood outside the door of 1723, she realized that the last time she had been down here was when she left her business card on the door. It seemed so impersonal now - she hadn’t even left a note, just the card with her cell phone number underlined.

 

She rarely used her business card for anything aside from clients or people she met directly through the firm, since she didn’t like to distribute her name and information to just anyone. Especially not to any potential “love” interests, who didn’t need any more information than the bare essentials (and sometimes not even those, looking back on her “Julia” days). Thinking back on it now, she chastised herself for even putting her card on the door - she should have learned from the Tara situation that pursuing girls who lived in the building was a bad idea, especially given the fact that Harge was in and out of the apartment regularly, sometimes not for weeks at a time, but other times once or twice a week, depending on their work schedule and if they had a professional social engagement where they wanted to arrive together and leave together.

 

But she _had_ done it, she _had_ made the mistake, and now she was possibly about to make it even worse - to cross another line. Regardless, she felt compelled to follow this - whatever “this” was - through with Therese, despite the fact that she was now complicating the situation further by potentially hiring her. If Johnson liked her designs, which she was confident he would, would she have to put whatever this was between them on hold? Or perhaps she could somehow arrange for Johnson to be Therese’s formal employer, and she could stay out of it?

 

She couldn’t believe this was the first time she had thought about this - if Therese was her employee, how would she survive trying to keep a strictly professional relationship? She had never allowed her personal sexual conquests to interfere with work. She saw them as two circles which she could never, ever allow to overlap. How would Harge deal with it? His father? However broken he was from her actions, Harge was the closest thing left to family that she had. The stability of the firm’s finances was dependent on their partnership, and they both knew it. Carol wouldn’t have been able to start the firm without Harge’s family, and Harge wouldn’t be able to run it without her. They had kept up this dance for two years since the divorce. Carol was angry at herself for continuing to contain who she really was - and however many girls she fucked, she was still hiding. She was someone else, a shadow of herself, an empty soul seeking something desperately, filling itself over and over with what it thought would satiate it, but it was never enough.

 

Now she was standing here, in front of this door, heart beating wildly. She knocked confidently and waited. The door opened and Carol watched it move inward towards the hall as if on its own, until finally Therese’s face appeared. She was wearing a pair of black leggings and a long sweater that reached to the middle of her thigh. Her expression was a combination of surprise and, Carol thought, happiness. Carol wished desperately to know what her own face looked like, but the chaos of feelings inside her made her incapable of wrestling down a single coherent thought, nevermind trying to control her facial expression.

 

“Carol.” Therese stated, still with a hint of surprise.

 

“Hi.”

 

Carol was suddenly overwhelmed by an immense panic. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing here or what she was going to say. Her body had carried her all the way down here, yet somehow her mind had not for one moment remembered that she should probably have at the very least an opening line to justify her presence.

 

Therese just stood for a moment, then seemed to realize something.

 

“Come in.” She moved out of the way and Carol walked by, through the hallway and into the living room. The apartment was a bizarre mixture of modern and… something else. Expensive kitchen gadgets were mixed in with dreamcatchers and hand-carved wooden sculptures. It looked like an apartment that would belong to some stoners who came into money. She looked around and finally turned back to Therese, who was just standing still, looking at her.

 

“I just wanted to... uh... say hello. How is the portfolio looking?” Carol instantly regretted asking about the portfolio - she knew that they had already finished preparing it carefully and thoroughly.

 

“Good.”

 

“Good. So, I like your place. Do you live with the girl I saw you with at the tenants meeting?”

 

“No. She and her boyfriend live here. I’m just staying here while they’re away.”

 

“I see. So where do you live?” Carol didn’t care at all about who her friends were or where they were, she just wanted more information about Therese.

 

“Well, I just moved out of the place I was living with… someone.”

 

Carol nodded and glanced down. She was desperately curious to know who.

 

“We broke up. It was her place, so I moved out.”

 

Carol’s head shot up. Finally, a concrete answer. She had felt it since that day in the elevator, felt that energy around her. In fact, at the time, she had been absolutely sure of Therese’s interest in women, despite the fact that she knew nothing about her. But lately, her self-assuredness was being shaken to its core. This girl had come along and easily, quietly, grabbed the intricate etch-a-sketch picture Carol had been crafting for years and shook it into oblivion. She no longer felt she could trust her own instincts implicitly.

 

“Do you want something to drink?” Therese asked after a few moments of silence.

 

“Sure. Please.”

 

Therese was looking through a large cabinet, soon standing on her tiptoes trying to reach for items on an upper shelf, and her hand kept narrowly missing the glasses.

  
Carol put one foot out in front of her and hesitated. Having a good six inches on Therese, she felt she should offer to help, but she was uncertain about getting any closer. She forced herself to move, coming within a foot of Therese. She could smell her hair, likely some kind of fruity shampoo. Maybe she had recently washed her hair. She was far away enough that it wasn’t consistent, but she got wafts of it as Therese moved.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Therese froze for a moment.

 

“No, I’ve got it. Do you want to look in the fridge? I think there may be some beers in there.”

 

Carol opened the fridge and bent down, looking through the shelves. There was hardly anything in it.

 

“Well, you have… turnips.”

 

“Oh right. Um… hold on.”

 

Therese continued to rifle through cabinets, looking somewhat frazzled. She finally produced a bottle of bourbon, the name of which Carol didn’t recognize. As Therese poured, there seemed to be a barrage of words that were trying to escape her mouth, but they were inexplicably halted, stuck with no hope of escaping.

 

Carol took the glass from Therese and studied her face. When Therese turned to look at her, they maintained eye contact for just a moment longer than would be appropriate in a casual interaction between two people who barely knew one another. Carol was aware of her fast breathing again after the short reprieve while they had been looking for drinks.

 

“Let’s sit.” Therese motioned towards the living room.

 

They sat on the couch, Therese tucking one of her legs under her as she took her first sip.

 

Carol downed half her drink, fixing her eyes out the window.

 

“Are you married?”

 

Carol whipped her head towards Therese and replied instantly.

 

“No.” She knew her voice sounded urgent, almost panicked. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I just wasn’t sure. I thought maybe someone else lived in your apartment.”

 

Carol thought back to Harge’s shaving cream and cologne on the counter and felt a burst of anger.

 

“My ex-husband is sometimes at the apartment. We have a business relationship that requires us to be in frequent contact.” Carol was aware that this in no way answered why Harge would be over there enough to justify having toiletries unless he was spending the night. “But no, I’m single.”

 

Therese seemed to take a moment to absorb the information as she took another sip of her drink. Carol felt as if she were balancing on the edge of a cliff, with her fate to be decided based on Therese’s next words. Carol realized that Therese would have no reason to think Carol wasn’t straight, and she suddenly felt desperate to make it clear, but couldn’t think of anything to say save standing up and yelling, “I love vagina!”. So she stayed silent.

 

“I hope you’re looking forward to Thursday. I’m so excited to show Johnson your work. The firm has been working so hard on securing his business and I think you may play a big part in that. At the very least, I know you’ll charm him.” She looked over at Therese as soon as she finished speaking to see how it was received. Therese was sliding her finger along the side of the glass.

 

Therese looked over at Carol and met her eyes with intensity.

 

“I hope I can help you.”

 

It was more than a casual response. Carol felt that Therese was responding to an entirely different statement, one that Carol had not spoken out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol is losing her damn mind around this girl. Everyone ready to hear Therese's side?


	14. Bourbon, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is the second chapter I've posted today, so be sure to read Chapter 13 if you haven't yet.**
> 
> Well, here's another one.
> 
> Writing this chapter made me want to crawl out of my fucking skin. I'm sure many of you have experienced this - when you like someone, and you know they like you, and this wonderful, unbearable tension exists between you that you for some reason cannot just cut off by stating the feelings you both already know you have, instead choosing to stay in that irresistible agony of the in-between...
> 
> ANYWAY, if you haven't experienced that, I hope you do. And when you do, you'll know. :)
> 
> Here's what our dear Therese is thinking.

Therese had been laying around flipping through magazines that she wasn’t really reading, just turning the pages and scanning the images lazily when she had received Carol’s text about rescheduling with Johnson. She felt a surge of excitement, knowing that not only would she get another chance to show her portfolio, she would also be seeing Carol again.

 

She texted Noelle, updating her on the news and trying to evade Noelle’s further prying questions about what was going on with her and Carol. She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to talk about it. Because in the stark light of concrete reality, it was nothing. Nothing was going on.

 

There was a knock on the door and Therese looked at it, debating whether she should open it. She couldn’t think of anyone who knew she was here.

 

When she opened the door and saw Carol’s face, she thought she might just collapse. Carol looked shaken, and Therese wondered if there was something wrong. She wasn’t in her usual state of perfect put-togetherness and regality, either. She was wearing workout clothes, it appeared, and very skimpy ones at that. Her yoga pants were skin-tight, and her teal tank top clung tightly to her breasts and midsection. There was a wide strip of skin visible between her shirt and pants.

 

“Carol.”

 

“Hi.”

 

Therese had never heard her say “hi”, especially in that quiet, almost questioning voice. Carol always said a bold, confident, and sexy “Hello”.

 

Therese stood there and just took a moment to marvel at her beautiful face, her powerful body, her undeniable presence. She was suddenly overtaken with the desire to kneel at Carol’s feet, place her hands on her breasts, run them down over her stomach and hips, and lay her head against her body. The thought sent a straight line of hot energy from her chest to her groin.

 

She realized she still had them both standing there, on opposite sides of the door.

 

“Come in.”

 

Carol walked in and started looking around. Therese was at a loss for words, having no idea why Carol was here, especially in her current state of dress - or undress - like she had perhaps decided to come on an impulse. Finally, she turned around to face Therese. She looked… Therese couldn’t place it at first. _Nervous_ . Carol Aird looked _nervous_. It was a shocking sight to behold.

 

“I just wanted to.. uh.. say hello. How is the portfolio looking?” Therese hadn’t done anything else with it since she and Carol discussed it - except smelling the drawings, of course, to try to get a hit of Carol like a hopeless junkie. Was she supposed to have done something else with it?

 

“Good.”

 

“Good. So, I like your place. Do you live with the girl I saw you with at the tenants meeting?”

 

Therese thought back to their “interaction” at the tenants meeting. She didn’t realize Carol had noticed Noelle or even thought about who she might be. The intensity of her stare at Therese that night had given her the impression that nothing else in the room could possibly exist, like the invisible line between their eyes was a forcefield that made everything outside it float away into nothingness.

 

“No. She and her boyfriend live here. I’m just staying here while they’re away.”

 

“I see. So where do you live?”

 

“Well, I just moved out of the place I was living with… someone.” She didn’t want to bring up Lauren or their breakup.

 

When Carol looked away, seemingly disappointed, she decided to throw caution to the wind and tell her. Use the pronoun and see what sort of reaction it got.

 

“We broke up. It was her place, so I moved out.”

 

Carol suddenly looked up, right at her, and Therese couldn’t tell if she had surprised her or not. Carol didn’t look like she had anything else to say. After waiting for what felt like a full minute, Therese decided she had to break the silence.

 

“Do you want something to drink?” Therese could use one, and Carol looked like she could, too.

 

“Sure. Please.”

 

Therese walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to look for glasses. What she found there was a seemingly endless array of beer glasses from countless breweries and bars. Noelle and Dylan loved collecting them and Therese silently hated them for it right now. As she stood on her tiptoes to try to see what was on the next shelf, she could feel Carol came up behind her. She was only beginning to register it when Carol spoke.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Therese had to close her eyes, grateful that she was facing away from Carol. She didn’t think she could handle feeling Carol come any closer or she might explode. Despite how badly she wanted to touch her, the thought of Carol walking any nearer and maybe even brushing her body against Therese’s to reach up from behind her was making her entire body flow with what felt like a wave undulating from icy cold to unbearable heat. She couldn’t add that on top of the rest of the sensations flooding her right now.

 

“No, I’ve got it. Do you want to look in the fridge? I think there may be some beers in there.” If she couldn’t get Carol liquor, she could at least put a few of those beer glasses to good use.

 

Therese had been eating mostly from the restaurant and hadn’t even looked in the fridge for days. She was pretty sure there was almost nothing in it but she couldn’t handle trying to get these glasses _and_ look for the beers with Carol just standing there watching her every move, so sending her to the fridge would give Therese a moment to collect herself. She glanced over at Carol bent over, her perfect ass creating a divine curve that Therese just wanted to trace with her fingers.

 

“Well, you have… turnips.”

 

Those fucking turnips. Is there anything weirder to have in your otherwise empty fridge?

 

“Oh right. Um… hold on.” Therese had finally found some glass tumblers, which would have to do. After placing them hurriedly on the counter, she searched through a few other cabinets and finally found a bottle of bourbon. She had no idea of its quality, but it was all she could find.

 

Therese poured it, and though the only sound in the room was the gentle trickle of the liquid hitting the glasses, she felt as if her every sense were being stimulated. There seemed to be a silent buzz that deafened her, and a motionless vibrating that spread out from each of them, creating rings like water in a pond upset by an invisible rock, continuously running into one another and being slightly deflected and rearranged intermittently.

 

She felt Carol’s eyes on her and turned. Her blue eyes were perfectly still, but searching, looking as if they were begging Therese for something. Therese looked into them, hoping Carol could see that she _saw_ her, she knew she was suffering, and she wanted to give her whatever those eyes were begging for. She knew she could if only she knew what it was. The answer was just out of reach, still undisclosed. Finally Therese lifted her hand and gestured toward the living room.

 

“Let’s sit.”

 

Carol was already drinking quickly. Therese watched her red lips embrace the side of the glass, the lighter pink insides of her lips visible through its clear surface, welcoming the sweet liquid into her mouth. Therese was transfixed. She started to feel like all the blood was rushing to the center of her body, depriving her brain of necessary fuel in favor of filling the spaces that Carol was bringing to life.

 

Realizing the depth of her want for this woman, she decided she couldn’t keep going on not knowing Carol’s situation. She could feel herself falling, and right now she was falling into an incredibly dark, unknown space. She knew she couldn’t stop it. Neither could she stop what flew out of her mouth next.

 

“Are you married?”

 

Carol immediately lowered her glass and shot her head towards Therese.

 

“No. Why do you ask?” She seemed incredibly alarmed.

 

“I just wasn’t sure. I thought maybe someone else lived in your apartment.”

 

“My ex-husband is sometimes at the apartment. We have a business relationship that requires us to be in frequent contact. But no, I’m single.”

 

Therese took another sip and thought about this. So there was a husband. And now what? Who else was in Carol’s life? Why was this man still so intimately a part of it? Did she still love him?

 

And the biggest question - was she straight? Given the way she made Therese feel, she couldn’t imagine it to be possible. And if it were, and she was straight, Therese may as well just fall on her knees right here and pray to God for a miracle, to let this woman be attracted to her.

 

But when Carol started talking again about the dinner with Johnson, and Therese looked into those blue eyes looking at her with an incredible hope and hunger, she knew she couldn’t be alone in this feeling. She knew Carol had to have felt it too. She kept letting Therese in the slightest bit, giving her a peek of the pain that seemed to sear beneath her cool blue eyes. What was that pain? Where did this unfathomable loneliness come from?

 

“I hope I can help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long can they keep this up? The burn is soo slow, but sooo good.


	15. Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the menu today:
> 
> Some Therese, some Carol, some *fun*, some more insight into Carol & Harge.

_“I hope I can help you.”_

 

Therese felt that Carol understood without her having to say anything else. Therese hadn’t even heard exactly what Carol had said last, but it didn’t matter. They were communicating about something else. Therese wanted to change the subject, and all she could think of to talk about was her work. With Carol’s encouragement, she talked about her experiences in college, getting her MFA, and the struggle of trying to build a career in design. She was boring even to herself - she had been over this ground so many times, reminded herself of where she had failed time and time again - but Carol looked entirely absorbed, hanging onto every word Therese said. It felt deeply personal - after all, she didn’t like to be watched working, or even have someone in the room - nevermind digging into what drove her; the motivation under her seemingly level headed approach.

 

Therese looked up at the clock eventually, her rational mind realizing that it must be getting late. She didn’t trust her body to tell her, because she knew she was on a physical high that wouldn’t quit until Carol was no longer in her line of sight, watching her with those eyes as if she wanted to drink up every word, every movement of Therese’s face.

 

“Oh… it’s 11:30. Do you have to work tomorrow? I’m sorry I’ve been talking so long.”

 

“Don’t worry about that. Hearing about your process is delighting me. I should get going, though.”

 

After a moment of hesitation, Therese finally moved one of her legs and placed her foot on the floor, and Carol followed by quickly standing up before Therese had even managed enough leverage to lift herself off the couch. Carol placed the glass on the counter in the kitchen, then grabbed her keys with an incredibly jerky movement. She was standing in the kitchen, and Therese walked in to place her glass next to Carol’s, then stood quietly. Carol was still looking at her, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Therese realized she was standing between Carol and the door, taking up just enough space to where it would be awkward for Carol to slip by her. She unconsciously wished she could trap her there, prevent this energy coursing through her body from being deprived of what drove it. She finally moved out of the way, sliding to the right and allowing Carol to pass by her. She felt like there was a cloud of unbearable heat passing by as Carol walked, but Therese found herself chasing it instead of avoiding its possible burning threat, following Carol closely before they finally stopped at the door. Carol was facing the door, Therese inches behind her, both looking in the same direction. Carol slowly turned and met Therese’s eyes.

 

Therese could feel her chest heaving and she watched Carol’s do the same, allowing the deep movement of of it to bounce back and confirm her desire. They stood there for a few moments that felt like a lifetime. If she moved forward about 8 inches, she would be at the perfect distance to lean her head forward, tilt it right just the slightest bit, and lay her lips on top of Carol’s. She could almost feel it already, and every muscle fiber in her body was poised and ready to move, she just had to allow her brain to release their tension, their holding waiting for a command.

 

Suddenly, Carol straightened up.

 

“I’ll see you Thursday.” She smiled weakly, turned towards the door to open it, and slid into the hallway. She turned around one last time, making eye contact with Therese and giving her one real, bright, and captivating smile.

 

* * *

 

When Carol arrived back to her apartment, she shut the door and leaned against it, finally allowing herself to breathe for what felt like the first time all night. Her body still felt electric, like she couldn’t turn it off. She walked in and threw her keys on the counter with a loud clang, then stopped for a moment to lean both hands on the counter. She could feel her heart racing, and suddenly became aware that her panties were soaked.

 

Several thoughts seemed to run through her mind at once, setting out a neat array of options for her to deal with this. She could go down to 12 and get whatever she wanted. She could also go to the bar, the laundromat, anywhere. She could find someone easily, and she knew it. She could go into her bedroom and slowly remove her clothes, turn down her sheets, make her careful selection of implement from the drawer… but she couldn’t do any of that. She couldn’t wait a second more.

 

She slipped her hand down the front of her yoga pants and under her panties, finding herself drenched and tender to the touch. There was no need for a buildup - she leaned her other forearm against the counter, giving the hand in her panties the stability needed to allow her to lean in against it, find her clit, and ride it along her fingers until, within 30 seconds, she let out a quiet cry, coming with more force than she had in what felt like years.

 

* * *

 

Carol had showered and prepared herself for bed, knowing that she would be drained in the morning, not only because she would only have about four-and-a-half hours of sleep by the time she drifted off, but also because her body seemed to have expended every possible shred of energy it possessed tonight, and she worried that it would take more than a short sleep to recharge it. As she laid there, she realized what she had just done. She had broken that moment with Therese that could easily have escalated - quickly - into something more, something frantic and passionate. But she had stopped herself. She had been the one to bring the careening train to a halt. For whatever reason, she had denied herself something she never did. Something she craved like water, to be inside a woman. Yet here she was, alone in bed, despite not being able to remember a time when she had wanted someone more. Perhaps that’s why Tara, or any other woman in the world, wouldn’t have been able to quench this want. Touching herself and allowing her mind to focus on Therese alone had been the closest she could get to satisfaction.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Carol woke up just as physically exhausted as she had imagined, but her mind was surprisingly engaged. She felt light yet partially filled, and there was excitement and anticipation that sunk all the way down into her bones. Despite her having abandoned all semblance of order and habit last night, she followed her morning routine in detail today, allowing it to ground her in what felt like a vacuous space in which she would otherwise not be able to help but float away.

 

Showering, drying her hair, applying makeup, making breakfast. Arranging her work bag and checking her upcoming schedule for the day as her espresso brewed. She finally gathered all her things, neatly tucked into the proper pockets and bags, then moved to pick up the cardboard box in the basket on the counter. Still on autopilot, she opened it and reached her hand in. But when she picked them up, she felt her mind stop, lurch like something that was moving with great force was being violently halted. The rings were beautiful, smooth to the touch, and blindingly brilliant as always. She stood and looked at them for a long moment, then decided something. She placed the top back onto the small box carefully, then placed it back into the basket. She let her right hand glide over her left, feeling the continuous expanse of uninterrupted skin on her fingers.

 

Once at work, she greeted her employees and made her way to her office, beginning to unpack everything to begin the day. Harge came strolling in, smiling and immediately taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite her desk.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Good morning, Harge.”

 

“Ready for Thursday?”

 

She was tired of hearing about it, but it was too early and she was too exhausted to even be annoyed.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Great. Things went well at the quarterly review. Dad is pleased. And I know he has no understanding of what makes a great campaign, but for what it’s worth, he was very impressed with our portfolio.”

 

“That’s nice to hear.” Carol gave him a small smile. She hated to speak, or even think, negatively of Harge’s father, as he had generously and in full faith provided Carol and Harge what they needed to begin this business. But in the years since that beginning, things had changed. Given their success, Carol didn’t need as much support as she used to, financially or otherwise. Sure, monetary advances for going after big clients and support for any upgrading they craved at any time they wanted was convenient and a great privilege, but Carol knew she could carry this business on her own. Harge knew it too.

 

But even after the divorce and the temporary bitterness it caused, he had been happy to stay with the company, always bolstering Carol’s talent and showing it off to his father. One of the reasons Carol stayed in that marriage so long - aside from being afraid of losing his father’s monetary support for the firm - was that she felt guilty. She wanted nothing more than to deny, to ignore that reality, but she couldn’t push it off forever. And with Harge sitting here, looking at her with admiration, she could feel it sliding, thick and dark, into her conscious mind. And there was something else that was bubbling up in her as she looked into his honest brown eyes - shame.

 

She couldn’t have helped what ignited her desire - it was inherent, unchangeable - but she could have released him earlier, freed him from the pain she had clearly caused him. She could have tried to push him away, given him the chance to fall out of love with her and find someone who could give him what he deserved. But instead, she clung desperately to the rope that tethered them together, secretly not wanting to separate their complementary minds and easy habits any more than Harge did. In the process, she unintentionally kept him trapped in other ways. He openly commended her in the office, took any chance to be with her outside of it, and told her how beautiful she was on a regular basis. While they were married, she tried to make up for her lack of physical and romantic attraction to him with things normally associated with them - private dinners and quality time, regular sex - but she was always skating the surface, and he was always wanting more of her, always whispering the kind of appreciation and desire for her during their encounters that any other woman would beg for.

 

Instead she spent her time secretly fucking young women that brought her nothing but a moment of pleasure, ultimately leaving her wanting even more than she had going into each encounter. It was a twisted way of scratching an itch her body couldn’t deny while still convincing herself that she wasn’t truly cheating, truly betraying Harge if she maintained the sanctity of their friendship and connection by avoiding emotional entanglements with anyone else. It was sick, and she knew it, but it had been so long that she lost track of it. And given her relationship with her parents, she saw no other alternative. He was what she had left in terms of any true emotional connection, since she kept herself closed off, untouchable at work. It had served her well - her employees respected her and appreciated her evenness, never making rash decisions based on emotion or whim.

 

But here they sat, him watching her, her allowing his gaze to penetrate her hard shell for the first time in a long time. She forced herself to continue looking at him despite her immense urge to look away, to avoid prolonged eye contact. She forced herself to face the results of her own reckless behavior.

 

“Harge.”

 

He just waited.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I am continuing to reveal Carol to y'all in a way that helps you understand how she got to where she is. As always, let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	16. Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll start off with something someone in the comments from last chapter (who shall remain nameless) mentioned after we saw Carol's behavior after their recent meeting in Therese's apartment.
> 
> Then we'll continue with our dear Therese.
> 
> And of course, Carol will wear a suit because... Cate Blanchett in a suit... just do me now.

Therese had watched Carol walk down the hallway, the memory of Carol’s beautiful smile dancing behind her eyes like the ghost of a camera flash. She wanted to hold onto it forever, to sear it into her brain permanently - her gently curved lips, her playful eyes, the way her lithe body swayed away from her. She wanted to run after her, come up behind her and press every inch of herself into Carol’s back, to feel their bodies rub against one another even briefly, even through clothes. The thought was leaving her skin flushed, a feeling of want spreading through her.

 

She went back into the apartment and looked around, not knowing what to do next. She walked toward the bathroom, peeling off her clothes as she went. She turned on the shower and walked over toward the sink, looking at herself in the mirror as she regained her composure.

 

The shower felt divine, its hot water streaming down her nerve-wracked, slightly shaking body. She began lathering her hair, letting the suds lubricate her fingers’ movement through it, then tugging on it lightly. She wondered if Carol’s commanding presence extended into the bedroom. Whether she would be the type to take control of their mixed desire, pin her down on the bed and claim her. She was shocked to find herself wanting to be taken and controlled given her reluctance to have her pleasure front-and-center. But the way Carol moved, even in her clearly nervous state here in her apartment tonight - the way she deftly manipulated things with her long, slender fingers, the way she spoke so eloquently with her full, smooth red lips… Therese found herself allowing her hands to move around her body, spreading the soap and lingering around her breasts and finally between her legs, sliding her fingers back and forth along her slit, imagining Carol pushing her against the shower wall and sliding those long fingers through her wetness as she pushed her breasts into Therese’s.

 

* * *

 

Therese had to work at the restaurant the next day, but not until 4:30. She had searched for a new pair of shoes all morning, trying to find something to wear to her meeting with Carol and Johnson that was not quite as casual as her usual plain flats that had been dusted over and over with the soot of the city sidewalks. She felt as if she had been to every store in the city, but nothing was quite right. When she imagined Carol in her perfectly manicured outfits - the sheer cream blouse that graced her frame the first time Therese saw her, the black leather riding boots she had strutted out of the elevator in on that rainy day - she couldn’t imagine how she could ever measure up. She decided she was trying to attain an impossible ideal and settled for a new pair of black pumps. They were professional enough, and generic enough that she could use them for future occasions in which she had no interest in dressing up, but had to do it anyway.

 

Her phone rang as she was walking back to the apartment, just as she had begun to descend into the subway. She backed herself up the two steps down she had taken and fished it out of her purse. It was her mother. Therese held onto the phone for a moment, letting it ring one more time, then answered it.

 

“Hi Mom.”

 

“Hi sweetie. How are you?”

 

“Good. Just walking home from doing some shopping.”

 

“Home? Are you back at Lauren’s?”

 

Therese felt a zing of pain. She hadn’t thought about Lauren other than how she might relate to - or create a problem for - her dynamic with Carol. Lauren felt like someone from a past life.

 

“No, I meant Noelle’s. I’m just used to being there now.”

 

“Oh ok.” Therese knew her mother was disappointed about Lauren - she had met her only twice, but immediately took to her. It was hard not to; Lauren was sweet, lovely, and genuine. There was no reason Therese should not have fallen for her. There was no reason she should not have been happy with her. She knew her mother wanted her to find a stable relationship, someone Therese could open up to. At the same time, her mother never outwardly expressed this. She knew Therese well enough to know that asking why she couldn’t just stay with Lauren or couldn’t just go out and meet new friends would only produce frustration. Therese did things slowly, often moving on to the next phase of her life reluctantly, fighting the whole way. It was easier to stay in the dark but familiar forest than to jump off the cliff, and she had become an expert at staying within those lines. She realized now that that reluctance had cost her her relationship with Lauren.

 

“Anyway, how are you? How is the house?” Her mother had been remodeling the kitchen, and though Therese had no interest in whether her mother had picked new tile or not, she wanted to change the subject.

 

“Good. Just… contractors. You know. How’s work? Have you spoken to Dr. Springer?”

 

Therese already felt herself resisting the conversation. She wanted to veer her mother off this path. The path that snaked from her job search, to her opportunities, to a particular connection who may be able to help… In fact, she wanted everyone off it, even Noelle, to whom she usually told everything. She wanted to travel that lush, vibrant path alone and find Carol at the end of it. To fight through whatever branches or rocks or traps anyone had set to try to prevent her from reaching her. She surprised even herself when she imagined the lengths she would go to in order to meet that blue-eyed gaze. In fact, it terrified her. Perhaps this is what made her want to keep it a secret. If people knew how much she depended on this woman for inspiration, for motivation in her job search, for excitement that drove her to get out of bed in the morning, they would think her pathetic. She barely knew Carol. But what she did know, with every fiber of her being, was that Carol wanted her, too. She didn’t have to say it, she didn’t have to tell Therese she was gay, she didn’t even have to make a move, because Therese just knew. Her body knew it like it knew how to breathe. And she clung onto that knowledge like a rope that would save her from falling into the churning waters below. But the grip she had always kept on the rope that tethered her to the shore, the one that promised that she would never drown because she would never even reach the water, was now trying to drag her away from Carol.

 

* * *

 

It was 6:21 on Thursday evening, and Therese was already ready to leave even though she didn’t need to be at the Rose Bar until 7:30. She had decided to wear a black knee-length dress with some black tights and her new pumps. She had no idea if it looked right, but she knew that black matched black and that it wasn’t jeans. She looked at herself closely in the mirror, wiping the tiniest speck of eyeshadow from beneath her eye that must have fallen as she was applying it. She plucked exactly three eyebrows that appeared out of place, then finally decided to back away from the mirror. Her phone buzzed, a dull vibration that felt far away. She looked around and realized it wasn’t on the bathroom counter, and she started frantically searching. She walked into the living room and saw it on one of the wooden tables next to the couch. She ran the ten feet to it as if taking one second longer than necessary might make the world fall off its axis.

 

It was a text from Carol.

 

C: Why don’t I meet you at your place at 7? We don’t need to rush anyway, Johnson won’t be there right at 7:30.

 

She had a little over a half hour.

 

T: Sounds good.

 

She started looking around at the apartment, picking up any clothes and shoes she had dropped in various spots, like skin that was shed at random intervals. A drink? Should she pull out that bourbon again? Why hadn’t she bought anything else in the meantime? Were they going to leave straight away? She took the bourbon out of the cabinet, along with two of the glass tumblers she had found during Carol’s last visit. She put them out on the counter. As she looked at them again, she decided it looked too posed. Like she was desperately awaiting Carol’s arrival and had prepared like a girl scout. She was about to put both the liquor and the glasses back in their respective cabinets, then decided that was insane. Carol wouldn’t notice. She finally settled on leaving the bottle on the edge of the counter against the wall and put the glasses on the lowest shelf of the cabinet for easy access. She marveled at her own self-consciousness - though she knew she often came off as shy and nervous, she rarely fretted over such miniscule details of her appearance or behavior, not even in front of girls. But now - now she was acting like all her straight friends in college who used to obsess over whether some guy had texted them or not, picking apart his every word to find its secret meaning. For the first time in her life, she was one of those girls.

 

* * *

 

When Therese heard the knock, she started walking quickly to the door, then slowed down once she realized how loud her heels were click-clacking against the hardwood floor. She opened the door to the close-lipped, bright-eyed smile she had come to adore.

 

“Hello dear.”

 

Therese was speechless and thought she might die right there. _Dear._ She could feel her heart leap into her throat, knocking on the roof of her mouth to be let out and suicide itself into Carol’s elegant hands.

 

“Hi, come in.”

 

Carol moved just inside the door, but looked like she didn’t plan to come any further.

 

“Are you ready to go?” She smiled.

 

Well, that was that. Good thing she spent so much time worrying about that bourbon.

 

“Yes.” Therese followed her out, closing the door behind her and taking out the key for the deadbolt. As soon and she got a grip on it, it fell out of her hand onto the floor. _Of course._ She bent down quickly and flew back up to lock it, cursing the door for being so damn high maintenance in the first place. They walked down the hall in silence, Carol next to but just a few steps ahead of Therese. Once they got to the elevator, they had no choice but to look at one another.

 

“You look lovely.” Carol gave her a quick, nervous smile.

 

Therese had no idea where to begin in returning the compliment. Carol was wearing a tight, feminine-cut black pantsuit, the blazer open and revealing a white button down shirt that followed the curves of her breasts and the flat of her stomach as if it were made for her. Therese had never seen a woman look so sexy in her life. She wanted to express this to Carol - how exquisitely beautiful she was, how her body seemed to sing a silent song that flew into Therese’s ear and rushed through her veins like blood, lighting them up all at once. What she managed to choke out was not quite as descriptive.

 

“You too.”

 

When the elevator finally came, they stood side-by-side and again fell into silence. Therese looked at the buttons, remembering how she used to obsessively watch for the digital display to show “12”. And Carol didn’t even live on 12. She had a feeling someone she didn’t want to know about lived on 12, and she had decided to push it out of her mind. It had a habit of creeping back in periodically, just like her questions surrounding Carol’s ex-husband, but she enjoyed her limited time with Carol too much to spend it ruminating on those things. She needed every cell open and available, ready to receive any sensory input Carol provided her.

 

* * *

 

 

Carol hailed a cab and held the door open for Therese. As she slid in to the other side, she watched Carol get into the cab - first her black-heeled foot, her long left leg, her left hip and its glorious curvature, and on and on as the rest of her floated in. Therese could have watched just that movement on replay for hours.

 

Once they were finally moving, Carol broke the silence.

 

“Are you nervous?”

 

_What a fucking question._

 

“Yes, definitely.” She didn’t elaborate further. She didn’t tell her that yes, she was nervous because she was about to have to pitch herself for the biggest career opportunity she had ever been offered, and yes, she was nervous because she had to do it while the most beautiful, intoxicating woman she had ever encountered was watching her. A woman whose button-down shirt was just slightly bent by her sitting position so that the pale curve of her breast could be seen through the space between two of the buttons. The woman who suddenly reached her long, slender left hand over towards Therese, finally letting it land on Therese’s right thigh where her dress had ridden up, separated from her skin by just a layer of black tights, and sliding it just the slightest bit up towards the top of her leg. Maybe an inch. Maybe a centimeter. The distance didn’t matter. She could have slid her hand all the way up to Therese’s crotch and it wouldn’t have been any more intense.

 

“Don’t be. You’re amazing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I never actually got to the meeting with Johnson, better luck to me next chapter. There was still too much C & T sexual tension to write before that.
> 
> P.S. If you have not seen Cate Blanchett in a suit, Google is your friend. :)


	17. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write, despite the fact that I was sure it would be a boring chapter. I think it came out all right.

As they got out of the cab, Carol touched her hand to Therese’s arm.

 

“Don’t worry if you can’t read him right away. He may not say much about the work, but trust me, he’s paying close attention. Think of this meeting as an appetizer. He’s going to want you to get a little hungrier before the main course.” Carol gave her a small smile, then let her hand fall off Therese’s arm as they walked into the building.

 

The place wasn’t what Therese expected - instead of wooden tables and half-empty bowls of peanuts, there were plush seats and bench couches in a soft, dim, romantic light. Carol spoke quickly to someone near the front, then led Therese to sit on one of the velvet bench seats against the wall. Therese hesitated before sitting down, wondering where she was going to put the large portfolio that would be out of the way. The round table was miniscule, only large enough for a few drinks. Suddenly she felt skin brush against the hand that was holding the portfolio handles and looked over to see Carol smiling at her as she took Therese’s portfolio and leaned it carefully against the bench seat to their left, accessible but not awkwardly intrusive.

 

“What would you like to drink?” Therese was sitting, and Carol still stood over her.

 

“Pick something for me.” She turned the corners of her mouth up just slightly. Carol looked down her nose at Therese and smiled before walking toward the bar. Therese watched her order the drinks, only able to see the backside of Carol, and noticed the male bartender smiling and shaking his head slightly at Carol as he poured. Therese wanted to know what Carol had said to him to evoke that smile, wishing she were on the receiving end of whatever the undoubtedly enchanting comment had been.

 

Carol returned and placed a small glass of amber liquid in front of Therese. She had no idea what it was, but she lifted it to her lips as if compelled by a force outside herself and tipped it into her mouth, waiting to feel a kick. Instead, something nutty, smoky, and delicately fruity bathed her tongue. It was perfect for this moment, this ambiance.

 

“Mmm.” She let out a little noise before she could stop herself, hoping Carol didn’t hear her.

  
They sat quietly for only a minute or two. When she saw Carol start to stand up, she glanced over to the door to see a handsome man of about fifty stride in, then immediately wave at Carol and approach them. Therese stood too, straightening her dress. He reached them quickly, flashing a brilliant smile as he embraced Carol tightly.

 

When he pulled back, Carol laid her hand on his upper arm.

 

“Todd.” She smiled widely. As she turned toward Therese, Johnson seemed to notice her for the first time.

 

“Todd, this is Therese Belivet. Therese, Todd Johnson.” He reached out his hand, and Therese shook it. It was large, cool, and soft, and he placed his other hand on hers as well to envelop it completely.

“Lovely to meet you Ms. Belivet.” They all sat, Carol and Johnson in chairs and Therese on the wall seat. They were arranged in a perfect triangle, though Therese could somehow feel the presence of Carol’s crossed legs within inches of hers under the small table.

 

Johnson was the first to speak.

 

“Carol tells me you’re quite the designer.” Carol smiled proudly, her eyes staying on him. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m looking to assemble a team for one of our upcoming projects. Carol tells me that your work is going to convince me to hire the firm. That’s a pretty tall order, but this woman doesn’t hand out compliments easily, so I’m intrigued.”

 

Therese smiled and watched him carefully, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly framing his masculine, angular face.

 

“I’m so grateful for the opportunity to show you, Mr. Johnson.”

 

He laughed.

 

“Please, call me Todd.” He leaned back in his chair and looked over at Carol, draping his arm casually over the back of her chair. Carol cocked her head at him and gave him a knowing glance, one eyebrow raised.

 

Carol and Johnson volleyed an easy, casual banter, with Therese joining in when appropriate, even inciting some laughs from them. After two rounds of drinks, they finally got to looking at Therese’s work. Carol propped the portfolio against her chair and began pulling out designs, looking over at Therese to prompt her at certain moments to explain her work. Carol’s words drifted in and out between Therese’s to complement and enhance them, tying her impassioned explanations directly to the possible opportunity it would afford Johnson. They worked fluidly together, flowing in when the other ebbed like harmonious waves that kept a calm sea. 

 

Johnson pored through them carefully, saying next to nothing. This didn’t seem to faze Carol at all. She remained as confident and positive as ever. After a time, he handed the pile of papers back to Carol and smiled at Therese for a long moment.

 

“Well, ladies, I’m going to go to the bar. Another?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Carol said easily, loosely, leaning back in her chair. Therese shook her head shyly. When he walked away, Carol turned towards Therese, her crossed legs visible above the sight line of the table top, her head resting on her hand propped up by the elbow on the back of Johnson’s vacant chair. She smiled triumphantly.

 

As she picked up the glass in front of her, she toasted toward Therese and said quietly, “Perfect,” before letting the last sip of her drink slide into her mouth.

 

* * *

 

Johnson came back and the three of them spent another hour talking about everything but Therese’s work. Therese loved watching Carol interact with someone else, as she realized that whenever they had been together previously, they were trapped in their own little tense, tightly wound world full of held breaths and hesitated movements. Here, Carol was like a show one couldn’t pry their eyes off of. She talked, laughed, moved, and charmed with ease. Therese could see that Johnson was completely taken with her wit and competence. It was enthralling, but Therese also sensed that Carol knew she had him. She knew she was the one who was really calling the shots, regardless of who was vying for whose business. She was focused and singular in her pursuit, aside from the few moments when she happened to catch Therese’s eye during a short pause in conversation. Then, the show seemed to stop for just a moment, a split second of static in an otherwise crystal clear broadcast. Therese wanted to extend that static, to crawl into it and stretch it out, to be enveloped in its deafening indefinability.

 

* * *

 

When they finally parted from Johnson, who left with a noncommittal intention to “be in touch”, Carol got much quieter, as if she had been given permission to shed whatever ostentatious skin she had been donning for the meeting. The air was cool, but thick and misty with the occasional raindrop.

 

“Should we find a cab?” Therese ventured.

 

“We’re not far from home. Let’s walk. Getting a little wet never hurt anybody.”

 

They walked at a leisurely pace despite the weather, Carol explaining that Johnson’s near muteness on Therese’s work was not a sign of disinterest.

 

“He is not the type of man who will commit to a decision upon first presentation. He will consider it, or at least appear to consider it first. It’s a great business tactic. That is, of course, as long as you have the power to make people wait. And of course, as long as you’re not dealing with people who know how to manipulate your attempted manipulation.”

 

Carol seemed to be going off on a tangent that Therese was no longer following, at least not in the way Carol was intending it. But she got the feeling that Carol had switched into another mode when discussing work, almost as if she were musing conspiratorially with herself. Therese stayed quiet.

 

Suddenly it started to rain in earnest, then to pour. They were only five blocks from the apartment, but the rain was driving down. Therese was thanking her former self for spending the extra ten dollars on a non-porous plastic portfolio.

 

“What about now?” Therese asked, referring to getting a cab. She looked over at Carol to see her perfectly coiffed blonde hair beginning to deflate into dripping strands, losing all control of their usual rigid compliance. She already had rain dripping off her face as she smiled broadly.

 

“No.”

 

They started running, and Therese almost fell after tripping on an uneven sidewalk crack. She let out an awkward yelp as she began to feel herself fall, but Carol stooped down and caught her by the arm, laughing as she dragged her back to her feet. Therese looked over at Carol’s face frequently as they ran, reveling in how it appeared in the midst of full, genuine laughter. Some part of her careful, meticulous aura had sprung a leak, and the absurdity of their current situation only encouraged more carefree laughter to escape out of it.

 

When they finally reached the awning of the apartment building, Carol was panting, but held the door open for Therese patiently. They squeaked their way through the lobby into the elevator, where they were able to stop and relax for a moment. Carol let herself lean against the back elevator wall, her hands holding on to the railing behind her on either side. She let her head fall back against the wall, closing her eyes and letting out a long sigh. Therese took the opportunity to watch the water continue to drip off her hair, to shift in and out of air pockets between her now-see-through white button down and her soaked skin underneath. So different from the day they had first spoken in the elevator, when Therese had been dripping wet, Carol bone dry thanks to her imposing black umbrella. When Carol opened her eyes, she brought her head back to its normal position and smiled at Therese.

 

As the “ding” for floor 17 sounded, they both looked up at the digital screen. Therese stepped out, then looked back at Carol, who was still standing in the elevator.

 

“Do you want to come in and dry off a minute?” She shocked even herself with the invitation.

 

Carol seemed to consider this carefully as her chest moved up and down slightly, still panting lightly from their run.

 

“Sure.” She walked out and started walking behind Therese down the hallway. Therese felt like a prison inmate walking toward the execution room, knowing the finality and severity of what lay at the end of the hallway, but not being able to prevent it. She looked back at Carol to find her looking down at the floor as she walked. Carol seemed to feel Therese looking back at her, and lifted her head. A small, nervous movement began to spread its way across her lips, but stopped short of a smile.

 

When they reached the door of 1723, Therese went through the unlocking process and pushed her way through. She took a few steps into the apartment but didn’t feel steps behind her. She turned to see Carol still standing outside, framed by the open door. Therese walked back toward her, stopping just a foot before her. Carol reached out and tucked one of the sopping strands of hair that had fallen into Therese’s face behind her ear, letting her hand glide along her jaw as she removed it. This time, she let her closed lips wander into a true smile.

 

“Goodnight dear.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Screaming internally*


	18. Anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol's experience of the meeting. You in DANGER, girl.

She saw Therese standing in front of the table, moving her head just the slightest bit to look under and around it, looking for a place to put her portfolio. Carol smiled and took it out of her hand, being sure to give the lightest touch to it as it transferred. She placed it on the floor carefully, happy to do whatever she could to make Therese more comfortable. She didn’t look panicked, per se, but Carol knew there was uncertainty brewing inside her despite her calm-appearing countenance. A drink was absolutely necessary, and Carol decided not to ask if Therese wanted one, but rather to ask her which one she wanted.

 

“Pick something for me.”

 

Carol looked down at her coy smile, loving the hint of suggestiveness in her voice.

 

“What would you like this evening, Mrs. Aird?” The bartender said formally. Carol knew he recognized her, as she often took clients (and others) here for meetings. For clients, the top-shelf liquor selection and comfortable environment provided an ideal spot for coaxing out the mix of business and personal conversations that often gave them the sense that their connection with Carol (and the firm) was different from the other, impersonal business relationships they were accustomed to. As for her other guests, the dim lighting and romantic colors created the perfect beginning to a gently sloping incline that would build over the course of the evening, ultimately cresting with gasps of pleasure.

 

“You don’t have to do that. You know you don’t have to kiss my ass to get a good tip.”

 

The bartender laughed and glanced over to Therese.

 

“Can I assume to know the purpose of your visit tonight?”

 

“I’m meeting a client. With a guest.” She looked at him with a smile, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to her words that she knew would prevent him from continuing. “De Luze. Two,” she added quietly as she glanced over at Therese, who was sitting with her legs crossed looking around at her surroundings.

 

When she came back, she handed the drink to Therese and sat, paying close attention to how Therese would react but keeping her eyes off her.

 

“Mmm.”

 

A delicious little noise - almost a moan - escaped Therese’s mouth as she lowered the glass from her mouth, eyes closed for a moment. Carol wanted to knock the table over and latch onto Therese, her tongue dying to lick the remnants of the sweet liquid from the inside of her mouth. She turned her attention toward the door instead. When Johnson walked in, she stood immediately, grateful for a distraction from her imagined assault on Therese’s mouth.

 

He said nothing at first, only giving her his blinding smile before pulling her in for a tight hug, giving her an extra squeeze against him before letting her go. She knew the dance, and left her hand to linger on his arm. After introducing him to Therese, they sat, both Therese and Johnson in equally convenient view for her so as to ensure she could manage the flow of the conversation by catching any subtle facial expressions on either side.

 

“Carol tells me you’re quite the designer. I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m looking to assemble a team for one of our upcoming projects. Carol tells me that your work is going to convince me to hire the firm. That’s a pretty tall order, but this woman doesn’t hand out compliments easily, so I’m intrigued.”

 

“I’m so grateful for the opportunity to show you, Mr. Johnson.”

 

She knew what would come out of Johnson’s mouth next.

 

“Please, call me Todd.” Carol saw Johnson turn to her, his face forming an expression she had seen before. She gave him an equally as familiar look back.

 

They went through the usual steps of the process: small talk, light flattery, discussion of meaningful but not too personal details of Johnson’s life. Then came the work. Carol found herself managing the conversation much more easily than she had anticipated, considering the importance of securing Johnson’s business and the destabilizing force of Therese’s presence. When Johnson stood to fetch more drinks, she looked over at Therese and smiled. It had been her smoothest meeting yet with Johnson, despite his silence. Silence, for him, was a guarantee that his mind was already churning with the next step of his plan; strategizing how he would fit them into it.

 

Therese’s open, youthful face looked back at her contentedly, her green eyes shining in the dim reflected light of the bar.

 

“Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

When they stepped outside, Carol let the chilly, misty air aid her in drawing a deep, relieving breath.

 

“Should we find a cab?”

 

Carol considered it. She suddenly felt invigorated, as if she were free from something that had been hanging over her. She didn’t want to get in a cab and contain that freedom, that feeling. She didn’t want to get in a cab and curtail this moment of shared success with Therese.

 

“We’re not far from home. Let’s walk. Getting a little wet never hurt anybody.” She wouldn’t mind seeing Therese enveloped by the moist night air, possibly creating a sheen of reflected light on her porcelain skin.

 

Therese was quiet, and Carol started to wonder if she were doubting whether the meeting was a success. She started explaining.

 

“He is not the type of man who will commit to a decision upon first presentation. He will consider it, or at least appear to consider it first. It’s a great business tactic. That is, of course, as long as you have the power to make people wait. And of course, as long as you’re not dealing with people who know how to manipulate your attempted manipulation.”

 

She stopped herself there, as she could feel the familiar self-congratulation of her superior business skills rising in her, and had lost track of the fact that she was actually speaking aloud. She was breaking one of her own elementary rules - do not discuss the tactics of the game and the motivation behind the plays with the target of those plays. But as she looked at Therese, she realized that her usual discretion and quiet scheming, which had become so natural for her, didn’t feel easy. She wanted to talk. She wanted to keep sharing her proprietary strategies, despite the fact that it could nullify the effectiveness of those techniques on Therese.

 

When the rain started to fall heavily enough to cause the hurried droplets to inflict tiny pricks of pain all over her body, she tried to resist the urge to mutter a frustrated “Ugh”. When Therese again asked if they should get a cab, Carol turned to her and had no doubt of her answer.

 

“No.”

 

When they started running, Carol would feel the light wind blowing her damp hair back, but as it poured harder, the weight of her locks surpassed the wind’s ability and clung desperately to her face. Her clothes were heavy, but her insides somehow still felt light, light enough to more than make up for the burden. Therese tripped, and though she caught her, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Once she broke the dam, the laughter kept tumbling out of her uncontrollably, spreading like a cloud around her head that blurred her reason and inhibition, choked it out of existence, at least for this wondrous string of moments.

 

She felt drained as they stepped into the elevator, but this time not drained of emotion and will, instead of the heavy liquid metal that always swam in her veins, pooled unmovably around her heart, and settled fixedly in her feet, ensuring that she never escaped her immediate reality. Now, standing in this elevator dripping, she could have floated. Her panting seemed to continue to expel her liquid weight, tiny droplets forced out of her now-clearing lungs.

 

She let her body rest against the wall, feeling the cold, wet blanket of her clothes smothering her skin luridly, her soaked bra trying to contain her erect nipples, the crotch of her pants contouring themselves to her intimate shape, creating a haunting contact. She finally opened her eyes, seeing Therese staring at her hungrily. The ding of the elevator interrupted their silent conversation, and Therese stepped out, pausing then turning around.

 

“Do you want to come in and dry off a minute?” She looked at Carol expectantly.

 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Don’t._

 

The sensations of her body overwhelmed her self-talk, and she acquiesced to its insistent demands.

 

“Sure.” As soon as the word rolled off her lips, dangerously, almost involuntarily, she knew what it agreed to. She watched it float into the air, entering Therese’s ears before Carol could reach out to reclaim it or suck it back in. It remained in the air like an ominous but irresistible perfume that neither could bear to walk away from. Every step of the next 60 seconds - when her left foot hit the threshold of the elevator door, when they made it past the fire extinguisher built into the wall in the hallway, when they passed effortlessly through the sliver of light from the street lamps through the vertical window in the hall… with every step, Carol knew she was pushing herself deeper into a passageway that would be more and more excruciating to try to extract herself from the further she went. It didn’t matter. She followed Therese as if pulled by a magnet, allowing even the strides of her feet to match Therese’s, further emphasizing the effortless synchronization of their movements and the burning want within each of them, each lick of one spurring on the building tension in the other.

 

When they reached the door and Therese began to unlock it, Carol suddenly felt as if she could be sick. It was completely unexpected, the last thing she could ever imagine herself feeling in this moment that she had been thinking about for weeks. The moment she had envisioned every time she had touched herself over the past weeks, the incredible gift she anticipated in return for her restraint from seeking pleasure from anyone else since she had allowed Tara to relieve her of her discomfort around Therese for one fleeting moment.

 

The feeling of hot flush, what one feels right before they get sick, was overwhelming her. For a moment she thought it might actually happen. However, when Therese stepped in and looked back at her, the burning flush immediately traveled from her stomach down to her cunt. Therese’s eyes waited expectantly, glinting fiercely. Carol knew exactly what to do next. She would lunge at her, bring Therese’s lips forcefully to her own, allowing her tongue to penetrate her warm mouth, then begin to push Therese further into the apartment, the site of her complete undoing. She would ravage her, tear off her soaking clothes, let their wet bodies rub against one another in desperation as they both released the sounds they had previously been hearing only in their own ears during their individual fantasies.

 

But something kept Carol’s feet planted to the floor outside the door. Not the usual heavy metal that held her down, but another, less sinister weight - but just as, if not more, powerful. A subtle look of confusion began to work its way across Therese’s face, and Carol wanted nothing more than to blurt out her thoughts. How she wanted her but couldn’t take her for some inexplicable reason. How she knew that their bodies would fit and give and take from one another like complementary melodies, but that she knew could also distract from the careful, intricate score they were writing that could tie together the whole sonorous tune.

 

She reached her hand out to brush a wet strand of hair from Therese’s face, and allowed herself the divine pleasure of running it along Therese’s soft, exquisite jaw.

 

“Goodnight dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so proud of my Carol. So proud. So proud of this fictional character that has come out of my own crazy mind. Not so proud of my insane attachment to those fictional characters.


	19. Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, from our favorite fucked-up "couple"...

_We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year_

_Running over the same old ground_

_What have we found?_

_The same old fears_

-Pink Floyd

 

“Well that’s fantastic.” Harge let out a light laugh with his statement. He was sitting in the chair in front of Carol’s desk as she wandered around her office, straightening things and moving papers distractedly from one place to another.

 

He waited for her to respond, but she didn’t.

 

“Don’t you think so? He’s basically ours, right?”

 

“Yes, I think so.” She gave him a weak smile. She wanted to stay moving, not pinned down to her chair and trapped in a conversation. She had gone to find Harge before he could come find her, wanting to be in control of when and how they talked about last night’s meeting. Her recounting of Johnson’s behavior delighted him, and he seemed to instantly be in a better mood. Somehow, it bothered her. She was uncomfortable; she wanted him to take the good news he had been begging for and get out of her office.

 

As Harge continued on about their next steps, she allowed herself to acknowledge her annoyance and attempt to find a reason for it. Normally, she would push through it and begin to let it dissipate as she went through her day, dropping passive aggressive comments and demanding an earlier deadline to channel her frustration into something that would achieve tangible results until it had emptied itself out of her. But now, she felt the need to face this head-on. Johnson was hooked, Harge was happy (and therefore his father would be happy), most of her junior designers had already submitted promising work in advance of them clinching the deal… and she had had an incredible night with Therese.

 

But still, she was frustrated. Angry, even. She realized that in her retelling of the evening to Harge, she failed to mention Therese more than in passing. She didn’t even mention her by name, only referring to the pieces “they” were showing to Johnson. She was bothered by the fact that she had purposefully excluded Therese. Why had she? After all, Therese had permeated every moment of Carol’s evening, to the point where Johnson and the deal became the backdrop, merely the vehicle for her and Therese’s interaction. The portfolio, the drinks, Johnson himself - they were all props that legitimized the facade of their show. In reality, they needed no set, no props. It was a dialogue between them alone, between their eyes, their hearts.

 

She didn’t want to share it with Harge. She wanted to hold it close to herself, cradle it next to her skin to be sure it wouldn’t be ripped away or bumped out of her hands. She began to wonder, however, whether those feelings were safe in her hands. She knew Therese wanted her, even possibly more than physically, and Carol was now the one in possession of that knowledge and responsibility. The thought of it terrified her. She knew that she was often in possession of girls’ affections, but she had made an art out of exploiting that affection and then washing her hands of it (literally). It was pointed and cruel, but it had a neat, singed end that left both parties free to separate and move on. The problem was, this wasn’t what was happening with Therese. She found herself trying to imagine how she would possibly hold onto something so substantial yet fragile. Therese was not weak; she didn’t need to be treated like an ephemeral bubble that would pop into nonexistence at the slightest upset, but she was also not like a stone guaranteed to weigh itself down in Carol’s hands - she still had to find a way to balance, and it would be an active process. An active process that required her to engage her emotions. It was looking up at a mountain she had attempted to climb once or twice what felt like lifetimes ago, but decided instead of spending her life risking her heart climbing it, she would rule the life on the ground. She wouldn’t look up at that heaven-bound yet potentially fatal peak - she would intercept the climbers who were just beginning their journey up, give them an experience to carry along as they began their ascent, their hearts still open enough to imagine that mountaintop air filling it.

 

“So who was this student?” Harge’s question brought her back to reality.

 

“What student?” She hadn’t been listening to a word he said.

 

“The one you took with you.”

 

“Oh. She’s not a student. Just working freelance.” As he danced dangerously close to the subject, Carol now had the overwhelming urge to throw him out of her office.

 

“Can I see her work? What’s her name?”

 

“Harge, I have a lot to do. I don’t have the work with me but I’ll make sure you see it. I really don’t want to get into it any further. I’m not...” She could hear her own voice cracking slightly under the pressure of her brain, dying to push the subject away. She took a deep breath as she leaned against her bookcase, one hand propped on her hip. Harge stood up and moved closer. She could feel his imposing figure approach, his cologne pleasantly floating around her head, the familiar smell promising the security of what she knew, of what she was certain couldn’t hurt her, because she had never poured her entire self into it. He took her left hand off her hip and enveloped it in his. He looked as if he was about to speak, but his eyes dropped to their hands as he flipped them so that he was looking at the back of Carol’s. Her rings - the rings he had given her - were blaringly, obviously missing. He let go of her hand gently, then looked back up at her before quickly averting his eyes to the floor. Neither spoke.

 

“Harge, I think we should -”

 

He turned away from her.

 

“I’ll let you be. I’d still love to see those designs if you get your hands on them.” He walked out of the office quickly, and Carol watched the shadow of his figure slide by along the frosted glass wall of her office that looked out onto the open concept space. She could see other smaller, shapeless dark forms speckling the glass, the other humans that occupied this very same office, each with troubles, thoughts, lies (however small or seemingly insignificant) of their own. She was exhausted just imagining the weight of so many problems all crammed into one space, one office. Everyday, they all put on their best armor, spoke in structured, specific language, and allowed themselves to believe, while they were in this office, that convincing people to buy something was the most important thing on their agenda. And Carol was the ringleader - she worked to motivate them, pushed them to succeed, paid their salaries. But no doubt most of those employees, despite all their troubles, had the courage at the end of the day to leave the scripted behavior of the office behind and slip off their armor - or maybe, slip on the comfortable skin of who they really were. Carol couldn’t figure out if she had either, or if it had just been so long since she thought about it that she had built something entirely new to protect herself.

 

Today, she felt as if whatever usually shielded her had melted away, leaving her exposed and intolerably naked. Harge was somewhere, feeling what he was feeling, thinking what he was thinking, and Carol didn’t know what it was. She didn’t know what he would do next. The right thing to do - in Carol’s mind - was to let it go, brainstorm how she would respond to the several scenarios that she imagined could play out, then wait patiently to employ them. Instead, she walked right out of her office to find Harge.

 

He was standing next to the desk of a young man of about 25, who appeared to be trying to show Harge something on a crumpled piece of paper. Carol wasted no time, interrupting their conversation bluntly.

 

“Harge, can I speak with you please?”

 

Harge looked somewhat surprised, but didn’t protest.

 

“Excuse me,” he muttered to the young man, who smiled and nodded.

 

Harge started walking, and Carol realized he was bringing them to his office. She did not have important conversations on anyone’s turf but her own - but she followed him anyway. Once he closed the door and turned to her, she just looked at him for a moment. He didn’t give in to the silence.

 

“We need to talk about things.”

 

“What things?” He strolled toward his desk, looking like he was trying to convince himself that the conversation that was coming was not nearly as serious as he knew it was. He had done the same thing when Carol had suddenly apologized to him last week - he knew she was touching on a deep, old pain, but he played dumb, and Carol had allowed him to.

 

“We have to figure out a way to move on from this.” She gestured back and forth as if she was drawing a frantic, invisible line between them.

 

“I realize it’s for this” - she now swept her hand toward the door, intending to reference the firm as a whole - “but I think we’re the only ones left playing into our little fiction. Even your father.”

 

With this, Harge looked up at her.

 

“This isn’t how we agreed to handle this, Carol. Is this really the time, given the Johnson account and -”

 

Carol interrupted him.

 

“It’s never the time. It’s never going to be the time.” She was raising her voice slightly, and Harge looked at her with shock. She never, _ever_ let herself get this off balance, especially at work.

 

She sighed.

 

“I’m sorry, I just… I think it’s time for us to figure out how to move on. We both know we can’t do this forever. It’s not fair to either of us.”

 

Now Harge was the one upset.

 

“You mean it’s not fair to _you._ That’s what you’re really worried about. None of this is fair, Carol. I have given you everything, ignored what _I’ve_ wanted in order to ensure that this firm survives.” He looked as if he might cry, and Carol felt a searing pain shoot through her.

 

They looked at one another, and Carol could feel that pain traveling up, forcing itself unstoppably through her chest and out through her eyes as she looked at him. She knew she looked as if she was crumbling, and she didn’t try to stop it. She spoke in almost a whisper.

 

“When did I ever ask you to?”

 

* * *

 

 

Carol was stripping off her clothes in preparation for a hot bath when her phone dinged.

 

Tara: Emily’s gone for the night. Do you want to see me?

 

Carol threw the phone back on the bed. But as she walked towards the bathroom, she stopped and turned back, picking it back up.

 

C: I want to see you.

 

Therese: Me too. More than you can imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> However slowly, I think our girls are moving - and no longer in a random direction, but instead toward something (or someone) specific. I know this is a long shot, but anyone know what chemotaxis is? That's how I imagine it. A chemical draw you can't resist. What do you think?


	20. Levee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this one. A little longer than usual.

_But I’m in so deep_

_You know I’m such a fool for you_

_You got me wrapped around your finger_

-The Cranberries

 

As soon as Carol sent the text, she realized that it had been a snap decision. She hadn’t taken a single moment to think about it, instead just following a whim. She didn’t realize she was even capable of conjuring whims anymore, nevermind allowing herself to be carried along with one.

 

It was 6:30pm. Friday night. There was no reason she couldn’t see Therese tonight, but as soon as she told herself that, she felt a dark, indelible force spreading like spilled ink inside her. What the hell did she just do? She had absolutely no ideas, nothing thought out to protect herself from the unknowns of an entirely unplanned evening. Therese had not said anything else, and it had been five minutes. Therese would know Carol was still on or near her phone. There was incredible pressure to respond, but for once, Carol was at a loss for words.

 

_Type something, anything._

 

C: I know it’s last minute, but do you want to get dinner? I know a great French place on Park and 65th. We’ll have to take a cab, but it’s worth it.

 

T: You tell me where to be and I’ll be there.

 

Carol couldn’t help smiling to herself. It seemed that one of the smaller walls between them had crumbled. Therese was… flirting? Carol thought of ten suggestive things she could say back, but she refrained.

 

C: I’ll come get you at 8. Sound good?

 

T: Sounds perfect.

 

Carol looked at the words carefully then put the phone down. She headed first to her closet.

 

* * *

 

It was 6:28pm, exactly. Her phone buzzed, and Therese looked down. Even before being able to truly read and comprehend the word, she recognized it; it entered her brain like an image, each individual letter its own exquisite portion of a picture that, when placed together and finally coalesced in her brain, formed the most magnificent word. _Carol._ Therese had never heard something so wonderful caress her ears or be drawn in lines beneath her eyes.

 

C: I want to see you.

 

Those words almost, but not quite, replaced the beauty of the word “Carol”. She had no desire to put it off or rationalize why it might not be a good idea.

 

T: Me too. More than you can imagine.

 

She heard nothing for minutes. It felt like time had slowed, the kind of unbearable slow motion that you sense when anticipating something that could change the direction of your life. She kept closing the Messenger app, then reopening it to check in case for some unlikely reason, a text was trapped in the six floors between them. Finally, something else came.

 

C: I know it’s last minute, but do you want to get dinner? I know a great French place on Park and 65th. We’ll have to take a cab, but it’s worth it.

 

Therese would walk 20 blocks, or 80 blocks, or halfway across the world to see Carol and it would still be worth it. If Carol wanted her there, she’d find a way.

 

T: You tell me where to be and I’ll be there.

 

She looked at it and wondered if it seemed a little desperate. But if she were being honest with herself, she knew she was.

 

C: I’ll come get you at 8. Sound good?

 

T: Sounds perfect.

 

Therese felt irrepressible energy exploding inside her and had to start rapidly stomping her feet on the ground to release some of it, smiling the whole time.

 

* * *

 

_May 2001, Middletown, Connecticut_

 

“Let’s go! Now!”

 

Amanda was standing in the doorway of the dorm room, short dress riding up, wristlet bouncing around jerkily as she moved her hands emphatically. Carol was carefully applying mascara, in no apparent rush.

 

“Carol, what the fuck? They’re picking us up at 10:30.”

 

“I’m coming, relax.”

 

She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, running her fingers through her long blonde hair, arranging it to frame her face while still allowing enough to cascade down her back. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

 

When they got outside, waiting for their ride, Carol kept glancing behind her, until she finally saw her come down the concrete ramp from the dorm lobby. The front pieces of Holly’s thick brown hair were pulled back loosely but perfectly into a clip, leaving plenty of hair falling down her shoulders. She was laughing as she watched the ground in front of her carefully, trying not to slip down the ramp in her heels. Carol was still staring when Holly looked up and immediately caught her eye. A small, shy smile played at her lips before she went back to talking and laughing.

 

* * *

 

Carol was leaning against the door frame of the filthy frat house kitchen, trying to avoid getting knocked over by the drunk people playing beer pong two feet away. Amanda was laughing hysterically at some guy’s mediocre joke, standing next to him sipping out of her red plastic cup and completely ignoring Carol, who was standing just a foot behind her. As Carol sighed and looked around, she saw Holly sitting on the couch talking to a guy wearing a hideous lime green baseball cap. Carol walked towards her, then stopped at the keg and looked over her shoulder at her. Again, as if she could feel Carol’s eyes on her, Holly met her gaze, expressionless, then rose and started walking towards her. Carol felt her breath increase in speed and decided not to even attempt to tap the keg while talking to Holly, as it might be too much for her brain to handle.

 

Holly finally stood next to her, turning her body out to face the room and leaning on the table behind them.

 

“This sucks. I hate them all.”

 

Carol smiled.

 

“Yep.”

 

They stood in silence for several seconds, then Holly spoke.

 

“Do you want to get some air?”

 

Carol nodded and followed Holly out to the back porch. Carol followed just a step behind so that she wouldn’t have to decide where they settled - whether they sat or stood, whether against the railing or on the steps. Holly walked over to the four steps that led down onto the grass and sat on the third. Carol sat next to her. She could feel her hands shaking and placed them on the step on either side of her to give them something to push against.

 

“Are you excited to go home for the summer?” Holly looked over at Carol, and Carol could feel her studying her profile.

 

“I guess.”

 

“Don’t you want a break from school?”

 

Carol said nothing, instead turning to face Holly. Holly had blue eyes, darker than Carol’s, a deep, saturated blue. As the thought entered her mind, she at once started to talk herself out of it. She didn’t do things like this. She wasn’t this person. But slowly, and perfectly steadily as if on a predetermined track, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Holly’s.

 

* * *

 

Therese realized while she was in the shower that she had told Sarah she would get drinks with her tonight. Sarah had texted her during the day, apologizing for not having any photo gigs for her recently, since wedding season was winding down. Therese had figured she may as well go out, since she would otherwise be on the couch all night - but another part of her wouldn’t mind being alone with her thoughts, or rather, her one thought.

 

As soon as she got out of the shower, still dripping wet, she grabbed her phone.

 

T: I’m so sorry but I have to cancel tonight. Rain check?

 

S: Of course. Let me know when you’re free.

 

Therese let out a breath, relieved. It was silly, she knew - it’s not like she wasn’t going to cancel on Sarah regardless - but every tiny obstacle in her path to Carol felt like an emergency, another possibly unsurmountable wall to climb.

 

* * *

 

Carol knocked, somehow feeling that this was the most nerve wracking experience with Therese so far, even though she had told herself that every time she had interacted with Therese since when she taped her business card to her door. Therese opened it almost immediately and smiled broadly. She was wearing a dress, yet again, but this time it was a soft cream color, giving the perfect muted backdrop to her raven hair and incredibly understated purple eyeshadow, which danced harmoniously with her green eyes.

 

“Hi. Come in.”

 

“Hi.” Carol smiled right back at her, stepping into the entryway but no further. “Are you ready to go?”

 

“Oh, yes, sure.” Therese grabbed her coat and purse, putting both on her body slowly and with as much grace as she could manage. She felt she was dressing for some sort of ceremony, as if every seam and fold would play an integral part of the night ahead.

 

Like so many times before, they walked toward the elevator in silence.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you.” Carol breathed to the waiter as he poured their champagne. Carol regretted ordering champagne immediately after the word came out of her mouth. Why? They weren’t celebrating anything… were they? Champagne was something she would _never_ order on a first date (or rather, on the one date she had with each of her conquests). It didn’t make any sense, and the reticence she showed after ordering it was probably obvious to Therese. She felt like she was doing all of this for the first time, despite the dozens of times she had perfectly executed evenings just like this one. She knew where to laugh, where to flirt, what to order, how to read when a girl was about to set herself aflame if she couldn’t quench her desire for Carol. That was always the moment for action. Bingo. But here, tonight, she had lost it all, like it had fallen out of her brain into a vast ocean in which there was no use trying to recover it.

 

Therese sat opposite her, looking around at the restaurant. She seemed to glance at Carol only periodically. Carol couldn’t stand it any longer.

 

“Therese.” She sought her attention, and she got it. Therese turned to face her quickly.

 

“I’m so glad you came out with me tonight. I’ve…” She stopped, and Therese saw her lips twitch slightly, as if they had words vibrating against their insides but couldn’t decide whether to let them spill out. Therese didn’t speak. She was hanging on Carol’s every movement, every blink, every sound of her breathing.

 

“I’ve wanted to see you,” she looked down and let herself smile, blowing a tiny cloud of air out of her nose as a meek imitation of a laugh, “more than I’d like to admit. I hope you don’t think it unprofessional of me, I know my behavior the other night was somewhat out of character and even inappropriate or unwelcome.” She was confident that Therese didn’t feel this way, but she needed her to deny it out loud. She looked up at Therese and forced herself to wait for a response.

 

“It was very welcome. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.” She smiled.

 

Carol jumped when the waiter returned.

 

“Do we know what we’d like this evening?”

 

Carol looked over at Therese, who clearly hadn’t even looked at the menu.

 

“Shall I?” Carol asked her. Therese nodded. Carol looked up at the waiter and spoke clearly, confidently.

 

“Yes.” She ordered for the both of them.

 

* * *

 

Therese was acutely aware of her own movements, almost as if they were being executed by a body other than her own. When she saw her hands appear into her field of vision as she placed her napkin on her lap and picked up her fork, she looked at them as if afraid of whether they would betray her. She had no body, yet she had to conduct herself in this one. Somehow, Carol appeared even more nervous. She had never seen her like this. She kept looking up at Therese with nervous glances. _Innocent_ glances. Despite being the same person Therese had been imagining for the past weeks - the blonde hair she wanted to run through her fingers, the blue eyes she wanted close enough to her own that she could see herself in the reflection in their black centers, the lips she would die to taste - the look of innocence on Carol’s face made her unrecognizable. Therese suddenly felt the need to help her, to save her from the wave she seemed to be drowning in.

 

“Carol, it’s okay.” She reached for her hand and Carol placed it softly in Therese’s. “I want this too.”

 

* * *

 

Eventually, their conversation calmed in intensity slightly, as it was physically impossible for the universe to sustain enough tension, enough expectation, enough unbearably uninterrupted silence to continue at the level they had been functioning intolerably at. Nonetheless, Carol remained reserved, or rather, overwhelmed, and each time she spoke or looked at Therese, it was almost with embarrassment, as if her words and actions could never live up to what she imagined for them to say or do. Her uncertainty, the way her napkin had slipped off her lap when she crossed her legs, the way she was repeatedly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had not dislodged and needed no further manipulation - it was captivating. Carol was someone else - there was no easy laughter, no perfectly graceful movements, no manicured, flawless phrases. It was the most beautiful Therese had ever seen her.

 

* * *

 

The cab ride back was easier as they both had the option to focus their attention out the window if they needed a break. Therese wanted to do something - anything - that would put her body in contact with Carol’s, but nothing felt natural as they sat on opposite sides of the backseat of the cab. They were nearing the apartment, so Therese just acted. She ran her fingers lightly along the sleeve covering Carol’s forearm, then lifted Carol’s hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on its back side. Carol looked over at her like she was contemplating death. Her face looked like what Therese imagined the face of someone whose entire world is about to collapse onto them would look. Not elated, not even neutral. A look of absolute terror.

 

As they waited outside the elevator, five people spilled out into the lobby. Therese felt as if they were encroaching on some invisible barrier that she and Carol were operating inside of, and that Therese felt she had to protect fiercely.

 

Once inside the elevator, they arranged themselves side-by-side. The doors closed torturously slowly. Therese pressed 17. Carol didn’t move, but instead looked over at Therese and waited. Therese could feel her, not just her gaze, but her body heat, her panting breaths, the very aura that seemed to engulf her in stifling paralysis. When Therese finally turned to face her, neither moved. They stared into one another’s eyes and Therese heard the near silence of the elevator, broken only by the slight mechanical humming of the cables and electric components that suspended them, burst into a cacophony of a million words, a million voices, a million gasps. Laughing, crying, running, surrendering. All this held itself behind her eyes and she felt herself on the edge of letting it all spill out, but as she looked into Carol’s, she could see the same tsunami of noise waiting with potential behind hers, and Carol let it pour out of her first. She took a step closer to Therese, ran her fingers through the hair that framed the right side of her face, and moved in so that her face was an inch from Therese’s, their eyes too close to behold the other clearly, their lips too close to draw breaths without mixing in the other’s. Carol closed her eyes and made the final, infinitesimal but incomprehensibly vast leap of pressing her lips against Therese’s, moving her head just slightly so Therese could feel her lips sliding on her own, the soft but confident movement of Carol’s heavenly, full lower lip making love to her own.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	21. Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite my stupid finger wrap, I managed to write this fairly quickly. I hope you all enjoyed the ending of the last chapter. Here we goooo...

_I cheated myself_

_Like I knew I would_

_I told you I was trouble_

_You know that I’m no good_

-Amy Winehouse

 

“I think we should get together again to discuss next steps. I’m really pleased with where this is going. I’m actually thinking it’s time for me to discuss my goals with your team.”

 

Carol was surprised to get a call from Johnson only two days after their meeting. It was Saturday, but he never had any sense of concern over whether it was a good time for someone else to talk.

 

“That’s wonderful to hear, Todd. We’re happy to oblige. How do you want to set this up? We can come to you if you’d like.”

 

“Why don’t you send your designers to the office and I’ll give them the run-down. You and I can meet separately, since we have logistics to sort out.”

 

Carol thought of something, and though she usually allowed the other party to do most of the speaking so that they eventually had questions for _her_ instead of the other way around, she had to know.

 

“Are you planning to take me up on the offer of having my designers in-house for the duration of the project?”

 

There was a pause. “Yes, that will probably make things a little easier for me.”

 

_Me too._

 

Carol had been worrying about the possibility of not only hiring Therese, but having her in the office on a daily basis. With Harge and all. A horrifying clash of worlds that she wasn’t ready to face.

 

“I should be able to send them mid-week. I’ll have Debbie set it up with Linda.”

 

“Sounds good. Now get to working on my campaign, Carol.”

 

“You got it, Todd.” She hung up.

 

* * *

 

Carol and Therese still hadn’t spoken since their silent epiphany in the elevator the night before.

 

They had said nothing else after their kiss. Therese had come away from it with her eyes still closed, not opening them for a few seconds. Head still tilted as it had been in order to allow her access to Therese’s lips, Carol kept her eyes open to watch Therese’s recovery, her now tingling, ecstatic lips turning up into a slight close-lipped smile. She felt a twinge of the familiar feeling of control and just _knowing_ what to do as she saw Therese’s reaction to her kiss. It was comforting to feel a tiny piece of the self she knew reappear.

 

They looked at each other for another moment until the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the 17th floor. Therese kept her eyes on Carol’s until the doors almost closed again, but then moved her body into the threshold and let them hit her softly and reopen. Their moment had almost been closed off, sealing them in. Therese didn’t know if her movement to keep the doors open was to prevent staying inside the elevator with this air of expectation or to let it serve as an invitation to Carol. They maintained eye contact for a moment, then Carol leaned in to press 23. Therese moved to let the doors close and stared at Carol’s slight smile until the doors closed again, but kept her eyes on the elevator door seam even after she was gone, trying to commit the moment to memory and even hoping that her face might reappear, but Therese knew it wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

Now it was 10am on Saturday, and Therese was in mental hell.

 

_Should I text her? Isn’t she going to say something? Why should she have to say something first? Maybe she’s waiting for me._

 

She placed the phone on the kitchen counter and stared at it, telling herself to just leave it there and do something else for a few minutes. She started to walk to the office to draw, but at the last minute she grabbed the phone. Just in case.

 

At 10:46, it finally happened. The phone dinged. Therese dropped her pencil and it rolled quickly off the desk into her lap from the force of her release, and she let it fall to the floor, not able to spare the second it would take to place it back on the desk.

 

C: How are you this morning, dear?

 

T: Amazing. Thank you for last night. I meant to tell you that when we got back but… I couldn’t.

 

C: I understand. Me neither.

 

Nothing happened for about 20 seconds.

 

C: Do you want to go out today? I have some exciting news to share.

 

T: Yes! Where do you want to go?

 

C: Do you want to go to the park? Meet me in the lobby at noon?

 

It was a beautiful fall day, and Therese couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than walking around with Carol. She was curious as to why Carol wanted to meet in the lobby instead of just picking Therese up on 17. It seemed like a waste of a few minutes that could be spent together - not to mention passing up another ride together in the elevator. She decided not to ask and just agreed.

 

* * *

 

_January 2007, New York City_

 

She leaned into Harge’s neck, thanking her feet for knowing how to keep dancing despite her mind being somewhere else. Tears started to work their way out, defiantly, and she was helpless to stop them. Everything about this moment was different from what she imagined. When a girl got engaged, she was ecstatic. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, let her jubilant heart fling itself out in glee. For reasons that seemed inane and inaccessible to her now, she had believed she would feel the same way. Somehow, she thought, it would overshadow this part of herself she had dismissed.

 

She had always been different, and she reminded herself that life wasn’t always compliant with the stereotypes. This was still the right thing to do. Living in her two bedroom apartment with two other girls was beginning to take its toll. She didn’t mind the modest existence - in fact, she reveled in her ability to survive without her parents. Her friendship with Harge was something that grew slowly and unexpectedly. Like many others, he had chased her, unknowingly pining after something that couldn’t be caught. But even after months of pursuing her with no result, he stuck around and seemed to let go of the possibility of a romantic relationship. Like Carol, Harge came from money, and his father had undoubtedly taken advantage of his connections to place Harge in a lower level but fast-track position in a finance department of a well-established marketing agency. Carol was in her third year of her copywriting career, making almost nothing but enjoying it nonetheless. They began eating lunch together, which progressed to drinks after work most nights. Carol enjoyed herself; Harge could keep up with her quick mind and obviously admired her fierce personality. She could not have admitted it to herself, and hadn’t been able to since, but she was lonely, and he alleviated some of that. There was no one else to hold onto.

 

The moment he asked her, she froze. Was it right? Was it fair? She did love him. It was the kind of love that had grown steadily and without upset. It wasn’t passionate love, and Carol knew it never would be. But that part of her - the lonely, vulnerable part - had forced the word “yes” out of her mouth. When he kissed her in the midst of his happiness, it was their first kiss, and she could already feel all the moments to come in which she would disappoint him, and the seed of her self-hatred had found a place inside her to begin sprouting.

 

* * *

 

Carol’s hair shone like blonde water, bathing the surrounding brilliant autumn colors in its cool, heady fluidity. Therese could have stared at it for hours, but she had to occasionally tear her eyes away to ensure she didn’t run into anything. There were many people around them, out enjoying one of those New York days when everything seems possible, including surviving the coming relentless winter, which could not be all bad if it began like this.

 

“I wanted to tell you in person that Johnson officially hired the firm. You’re going to start by meeting with him and the rest of the design team at his office on 6th & 14th. Hopefully Wednesday.” She smiled broadly and looked over at Therese to see her reaction.

 

Therese was elated, and couldn’t think of any words to say for a moment. She laughed, a free and pure sound that permeated the air around them.

 

“Oh my god! That’s amazing news. Carol…”

 

She looked at Carol’s brilliant smile and stopped, right in the middle of the walkway. Carol continued walking a few steps and then stopped and turned back at her. Therese didn’t know what to do next. She walked confidently over to Carol and pulled her into a kiss. A deep, burning kiss that attracted some looks from surrounding park-goers that they remained unaware of. All Therese could feel, see, hear was Carol, her lips devouring her own. Not the soft, delicate kiss of the night before, but something hungry and insatiable. When Therese felt Carol’s tongue enter her mouth, she let out a small, barely audible moan. Carol was the only one who could have heard it, and Therese was grateful. She wanted Carol to feel in the deepest part of her how much Therese wanted her, her body, everything that made her the person she was. They were pressed up against one another, and Therese had ended up halfway inside Carol’s deep red coat that was billowing gently in the wind. She could feel her breasts pressed into her own, and let herself luxuriate in the thought of the proximity of their other most intimate parts, separated by only a few layers of fabric and the slight difference in height.

 

* * *

 

Carol made the decision during their embrace, and never rethought it until they were already walking off the elevator at 23. She could control herself. She could stop things before they went too far. She needed just a little taste...just a little hit of what was giving her this incomprehensible high. Therese had only smiled in response when Carol had asked her. As they walked out of the elevator, Carol first, she stopped and held out her hand slightly behind her, and Therese slipped hers into it. Their palms’ embrace somehow ignited a fire, and Carol remembered that day in her living room when she had looked down at her palm caressing Therese’s, when she had felt that unendurable emptiness that she knew was betraying her by making itself apparent on her face, as if it refused to contain itself anymore when faced with Therese’s discerning gaze.

 

Carol couldn’t take her eyes off Therese and almost missed her apartment. As she turned toward it, she saw a small, bright pink square defacing her elegant dark wooden door. It looked like a revolting interruption of an otherwise flawless continuity, a hole that cut neatly but savagely through the door in a malicious attempt to harm it.

 

_Tonight? Call me._

 

Again, there was a small heart drawn underneath it. The bottom of the heart didn’t quite line up, leaving it open at the bottom. Carol hated it. That hole could let anything through. An obvious, hideous weakness in it. Carol immediately tore it down and turned to Therese, but she could tell Therese had already seen it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking Tara. The disease that keeps coming back.


	22. Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets a little real here. Not the starry eyed unicorn dust we're used to seeing between these two. Here is Therese's experience, and we'll do Carol's after if there's interest.

It took Therese a few seconds to actually let the words written on the sticky note sink into the cracks and crevices of her brain and connect into a coherent thought that conveyed an unsettling, stomach-churning meaning. The previous one wasn’t pink, but it was the same bubbly writing. And the same heart. Carol ripped the note down while still facing the door and turned to Therese for a split second before turning back around to open the door. She glanced so quickly that Therese didn’t even have a chance to see her facial expression.

 

Carol walked into the front entryway and put her purse down on the table by the door. She took her lurid, blood red coat off and hung it on a hook. She looked like she was debating whether to slip off her heels, but she left them on and clacked unabashedly along the hardwood floor into the kitchen. She simply left Therese, who was still standing just inside the door, behind. The door was open, almost all the way, and Therese suddenly had the urge to turn and look out into the hallway. There was a fire alarm on the wall, its red color harsh and clown-like, a hideous drop of fresh blood. She kept her eyes on it as she closed the door, then turned back to face inside the apartment. Carol was already making noise in the kitchen.

 

“Would you like a drink?”

 

It was 3:45pm, but if there was any time for a drink, it was now. Therese was still in the hallway and didn’t answer right away. She walked towards the kitchen and saw Carol turned away, her body looking like an ominous shadow in her all-black ensemble. Was she not going to say anything about it? Was she ever going to look at Therese? Therese remained silent, hoping that by not giving an answer she could force Carol to look at her.

 

Therese stared at her, watching her long, black sleeve-clad arm reach into the cabinet for one glass, then the other, carefully, measuredly, like the legs of an elegant spider. Finally, she started to turn her head. She kept the rest of her body oriented away, trying to protect at least part of herself from whatever sight she was about to see when she finally faced Therese. Her blood red lipstick was still deep, seemingly untouched by their passionate kiss. Therese wondered if there were remnants of it on her own lips. Her face looked steely, almost defiant, like she was daring Therese to say something about the note. Therese looked for a sign of concern, worry, or maybe even embarrassment in her eyes, but found none. She suddenly wanted to walk up to Carol and slide her thumb violently across her lips, smearing that sickeningly red lipstick outside its carefully contained outlines. It would give her great pleasure to do it, to see such a blatant flaw on Carol. But the perfectly drawn lips remained inimitable, and they formed another word.

 

“Drink?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Vodka?”

 

Therese didn’t answer.

 

Therese could easily have left, made an excuse that they both knew was bullshit but would at least serve the traditional objective of social niceties by fabricating a reason for leaving. She could carefully protect that veneer of decency, leave this corrupted daydream behind - or she could stay. Carol looked angry and defiant, and Therese wanted to know why.

 

Carol handed her the glass without looking at her and walked over to the couch. Therese was flabbergasted by Carol’s lack of acknowledgment not only of the note, but also of how everything had completely changed in a matter of 20 minutes, thrown completely out of the now distant world where they had just been pushing themselves into one another as if their lives depended on it, as if they were trying to penetrate the skin of the other to get inside.

 

Carol sat. Therese looked at the glass in her hand, the clear liquid looking dull and lifeless. She didn’t want it, but she drank it all at once. Carol was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, her arm draped over the back of the couch as she had done several times before. Her body language was cocky and self-assured, as if she was some sort of villain who wore a second skin of supposed empathy when outside her lair, but she now relieved herself of it as she slithered into her own space.

 

_What is wrong with her?_

 

Therese wasn’t going to embarrass herself by overreacting, but she was also indignant, whether rightfully or not, that Carol felt she didn’t owe her an explanation. Carol’s heeled foot on her top leg flexed back and forth, as regular and even-tempered as a pendulum. Therese wanted to grab it and stop its steady, overconfident movement.

 

“So, I assume you’ll have plans tonight?” Therese was still standing, empty glass in hand, as she spoke.

 

Carol finally looked at her.

 

“Don’t worry about that. It’s nothing.” She gave Therese a sly smile. Therese wanted to slap her gorgeous face.

 

“It looks like the same person from before.”

 

Carol didn’t move. She was still looking at Therese, and she was still completely straight-faced.

 

“What person from before?” She sipped her drink casually.

 

“‘ _I miss you. And your tongue_.’” Therese said it with a hint of amusement. After all, she barely knew this woman. It had been, what, two weeks? She could be dating someone else for all Therese knew. And she had this ex-husband who… sometimes lived there? Carol was still an unknown. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more. Sitting there, staring at her with her glass held in her red-nailed hand, touching it to her red mouth, she looked like the fucking devil himself.

 

“I was involved with someone that I’m no longer involved with. I don’t want you to think it means anything, because it doesn’t.” Her voice was flat, unemotional.

 

“So you broke up with this person but they’re still leaving notes on your door - how did they even do that? Do they come to your apartment at random times?” Therese’s tone wasn’t openly accusatory; it was amused, incredulous.

 

Carol paused for a moment, but gave no sign of unease in her facial expression.

 

“It’s over. I’m not seeing her anymore. She lives in this building, which is why she feels as if she has the right to leave these notes and show up unannounced.”

 

“Is that the girl who came by the other night while I was here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Therese was quiet for a moment. She had no idea what to do next. This was exactly the reason she never allowed herself to behave like she had for the past few days. Showing Carol all her cards, letting her excitement show through texts and calls, _kissing the back of her hand_? It all seemed mortifying now. She had flayed herself open and showed Carol her soft, young, fast-beating heart in all its intricacy and weakness, and now the infection had crept in. Whatever she thought this was, it wasn’t. Or perhaps, she had always known exactly what this was, but hadn’t immediately silenced her usual voice that told her that there was an end to this road, an end to every road, where she would eventually find herself alone. It’s not something she expected pity for, it’s just the way it was. In her mind, you had to be stupid to fall in love, because what felt like falling in love was really just the biological drive to mate with another human, to feel a necessary but eventually finite sense of companionship, and to desperately try to push away the terror that comes with realizing that at the end of the day, we are all alone.

 

* * *

 

_April 2011, Queens_

 

Melissa had a tiny, second floor apartment in a triple decker that looked out onto a chipped, dark blue shingled house on one side and an empty lot that had a huge, square hole where some pathetic structure had once sat on the other. It was always freezing. The floor was hardwood, so it shouldn’t have been as cold as tile, but that is how Therese always envisioned it anyway since it was always a shock to bare feet. Therese had started dating Melissa her junior year at NYU, right after they came back from winter break. Therese remembered using the exceedingly eloquent response of “Yeah, sure,” when one of her friends asked if she might be interested in Melissa. Clearly the friend had reported back to Melissa that Therese was a go, and suddenly, they were dating.

 

This was often how Therese got involved with someone - a passive process in which someone else was interested in her, and she decided whether she was attracted to them. If she was, she would go out with the girl - why not? The problem was, when inevitably the other girl searched for answers to questions like “Where is this going?”, Therese would freeze. She could just walk away, but it was easier to go along with it. It was selfish and cowardly, but, like with Lauren, she always hoped that maybe over time someone could draw out of her whatever it was that made people connect, that string or tendril that grew toward something it found fascinating. Over time, she wondered if that tendril had ever been planted inside her, or if it was an empty follicle, a birth defect that had never been and could never be fixed.

 

By April, Therese was starting to feel restless - or rather, her restlessness that had been present throughout had now reached a breaking point - and knew deep down that she shouldn’t be wasting any more of her or Melissa’s time. She repeatedly rationalized the decision to stay in the relationship - she should give it a chance, like Noelle and everyone else was always pleading with her to do. One night, Melissa had insisted on making stuffed peppers, which Therese was not particularly fond of. Therese was trying to dump all the remaining seeds out of a pepper without having to cut down the sides. The seeds were falling all over the floor, and as she was bent over picking them up, Melissa grabbed her hand. As Therese stood up and faced her, she realized that Melissa had tears in her eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Therese didn’t move. She moved her hand that was holding the pepper seeds to over the sink and released them. Some remained stuck to her hand, and she used the other to slowly, carefully rid it of the clingy seeds. She didn’t feel panicked, she felt trapped. Like she was in the softest, gentlest, but most airtight cage that existed. She knew she wasn’t in love with Melissa. As far as she knew. What was love supposed to feel like? Would she know it when it came? Was this it? She didn’t even try to rattle the bars of her gentle cage. She was already there, pepper in hand, so she did what she thought was her only choice.

 

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

Carol tipped the last sip of her drink back and placed it silently on the coffee table. She looked back at Therese boldly. Therese couldn’t believe what was happening. She wanted to ask more questions. The girl, the notes, the husband, the seeming dual personalities. Her Jekyll was irresistible, but her Hyde was monstrous. Therese hadn’t ever been able to manage a girl’s moods or complications - she had either acquiesced to their whims or left, and she didn’t have the motivation to start doing it now - especially with a twisted, dark, convoluted case such as Carol’s. The runaround, the endless emotional rollercoaster, the always disappointing end - why did she allow herself to wander down this path? She knew where it would lead.

 

Carol’s blue eyes were empty but piercing. Her red, luscious, wicked lips were still meticulously drawn. Her lithe but curvaceous body was in slight shadow, like the elusive subject of a classic painting. A piece of cold, stone art that had been placed in front of her eyes. She couldn’t let it inside her and crush her under its weight, but she _could_ take from it the only thing that would be of any use to her now. She could run her hands over it, let it overwhelm her senses, close her eyes as she tried to forget that she could never get beneath its cold, unyielding, but exquisite skin.

 

Therese lunged toward Carol and kissed her fiercely, biting that lascivious, depraved red lip, trying her best to smear its covering all over them both, to expose its raw bottom layer. She shoved Carol’s shoulders, pushing her almost onto her back on the couch. Carol didn’t lay down all the way, her forearm underneath her still supporting most of her weight. She looked at Therese with a gaze so full of so many words - so many questions and emotions - that Therese could only imagine their endless colors and shades blending into one nondescript, flat, vile black. That was another thing she could take from this dark work of art. She wanted to swim in that black, luxuriate in its opaque disguise. Let it inside her to cover all the organs and bones that had been bleeding tenderly, let it replace the blood in her veins with something that would shield her from pain. She pushed Carol again, harder this time, and she heard her back thump against the couch as her head bounced the slightest bit when hitting the firm cushion. Therese aligned herself over her and slammed her thigh in between Carol’s legs. She grabbed Carol’s wrists roughly and held them over her head. As if an alarm had gone off, something halted her, made her go completely still. She looked down into Carol’s now wide-open eyes, their light blue suddenly almost transparent, allowing Therese to look directly down into a seemingly endless well of fear.

 

Therese’s eyes bored into them unflinchingly to let Carol know that she could see straight in. She could see all of it.

 

“Is this what you want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol seems to be putting her pointy ice crown back on her head. Or is she?


	23. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol's POV of StickyNoteGate.

_Well I've got thick skin and an elastic heart_

_But your blade it might be too sharp_

_I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard_

-Sia

 

 

She had seen it, but she looked as if she didn’t quite understand yet, and Carol hoped her ripping it off the door might have somehow prevented the inevitable, halt the nerve impulses that were currently shooting down Therese’s axons from her eyes to her brain. There was nothing to do about it. She thought for a split second about acknowledging it, but decided that there was no use in it. She hadn’t done anything wrong, there was no reason to grovel at Therese’s feet. But despite what her brain was telling her, she felt every other part of her body twitching with unease, wanting to say something to explain, to make this go away. It wouldn’t, and they would both have to get over it. Move on.

  
She walked farther into the hallway and placed her purse carefully on the table, then shed that red shell that had just minutes ago helped her wrap around Therese like an extension of herself that would overcome its inanimate limits to bring them closer, tighter. But she hadn’t bought that coat because it was soft, inviting, or even beautiful. She had bought it because she knew it was intimidating on her, and because that red seemed to cut into the core of who she was. Or at least, of who she now was. Who she had shaped herself to be through a million little decisions just like that one, strung together to form a thick but undeniably fragile outline around her. She lifted one of her feet just slightly to take off her heels, but lowered it back down silently. The thought of walking around in her bare feet felt unbearably intimate.

 

She made her way to the kitchen, her rational mind propelling her forward away from Therese. Propelling her away from that image, the haunting image of someone’s judgment. She had been painstakingly careful in avoiding any situations in which someone could catch her in the act of doing something that she had convinced herself was wrong, distasteful, shameful. Despite how she tried to convince herself the opposite, that there was nothing inherently shameful about who she was, it lingered inside her like toxic, diseased, ancient branches that refused to break off and allow the healthy tree underneath to be cleansed.

 

* * *

 

_May 2003, Great Falls, Virginia_

 

“And you hid it from us. Which you should have, because it’s ridiculous. You can forget about Europe, and everything else. If this is how you want to ruin your future, you can do it without us.”

 

Carol was sitting at the dining room table in her parents’ house, staring at a small piece of dark blue crumpled wrapping paper that had been left behind on the floor, its saturated color somehow seeming to belong on the cream rug it sat on, its edges spreading hazily, bleeding into the rug as her eyes continued to push it out of clear focus. Four hours since all the guests had left, the cleaning people had been through, yet this had been left behind like a subtle but cruel reminder.

 

She had nothing to say. She had known it was a risk to steal a kiss from Holly, but she couldn’t help herself. It was graduation day, and they were about to take a massive step into the future, hoping that they could somehow hold onto one another. Her relatives and other friends continued to talk and laugh in the kitchen and living room as she pulled Holly into the hall by the back door. She ran her hands through the hair on either side of her face and pulled it back slightly as she leaned in to place a slow, sensuous kiss to Holly’s lips.

 

“I love you.”

 

She was looking into Holly’s eyes, feeling terrified of what was about to change in their lives, but ecstatic that she had someone to share it with. Someone who knew her secrets and accepted all the parts of her that she didn’t like herself. It was something she’d never felt before in her proper, constricted upbringing. Her parents gave very little encouragement; high performance in academics, athletics, and any other possible activity was expected without difficulty or resistance. They believed she should be driven to achieve through her own volition, and needing validation and affirmation from them would ultimately create a weakness in her, create a crack that needed to be filled by someone else periodically. It wasn’t the way the world worked, and neither of her parents wanted her to expect that it would. She could only remember a single time she had heard “I love you,” and it was from her father when her brother had died when she was thirteen. Her mother had never said it. She wondered if she had _ever_ said it to her in her life, maybe when she was a baby and wouldn’t be able to remember her mother being so vulnerable for even a moment. She didn’t allow herself to think about it too long, because despite how much she wished it was different, she knew the answer.

 

Holly smiled.

 

“I love _you_ , baby.” She leaned in to kiss Carol again, this time encouraging Carol to part her lips so she could work her way inside. Carol welcomed it, completely forgetting where they were.

 

When she heard footsteps, she turned to see her mother, hair perfectly styled, bracelets dangling heavily on her slender wrist, making just the tiniest rattle from her sudden stop of movement. Her eyes were a mixture of shock and anger, as if she was utterly bewildered and repulsed by what she saw.

 

* * *

 

“Would you like a drink?”

 

There was no response, but Carol started taking the glasses down anyway. She was going to have one regardless. She could feel Therese watching her, expectant and undoubtedly confused. She closed her eyes and took a breath, deep enough to give her an extra boost of oxygen but not so deep as to allow Therese to see her trying to - needing to - collect herself. But really, what did she need to justify? That part of her brain that always tried to convince herself that she had nothing to be ashamed of bubbled up, but she popped it, and let her deep, old shame take control of her face, her movements, and her words.

 

She started to turn, but kept her hands on the counter like anchors, turning only her head. Therese’s expression was unreadable, like it had been so many times before. It always threw her off. She was simply studying her, as if she were an object to examine. She needed to keep this moving.

 

“Drink?”

 

Therese’s face made no change in expression, but her mouth seemed to push a word out just to stop Carol’s interruption of her scrutinizing examination.

 

“Sure.”

 

Carol reflexively reached for the vodka, but her hand only made it out an inch. Therese was another person, with her own likes and dislikes, and Carol should ask her what she wants. It was the best action of recognition she could make - she wouldn’t recognize the note and what had resulted - this entire situation - but she could recognize that she was capable of thinking of someone else. She knew it would fly past Therese, but Carol wanted to make herself feel as if she was still maintaining a tiny channel of openness, no matter how small.

 

“Vodka?”

 

Therese said nothing. Carol started pouring the vodka, but she almost lost control of it when the weight of the liquid suddenly shifted forward all at once, pouring more than a drink’s worth into one of the glasses. She took a large gulp, fairly confident that Therese hadn’t seen her. She poured the other, the clear liquid glinting as it caught the sun. Like it was taunting her with its lightness and purity. She finally managed to fill them and handed a glass to Therese like a drive by, making no eye contact as she made her way to the couch. She sat and suddenly remembered her power pose. She wasn’t going to crumble, not here, not now. She wasn’t going to play her hand. Therese would speak eventually. She could wait.

 

Finally, it came.

 

“So, I assume you’ll have plans tonight?”

 

Carol felt a lurch inside her.

 

_Well, here it is._

 

She had thought for a few moments in the most irrational part of her brain that they may be able to skate over this, make a little jump to avoid the chip in the ice and glide on. No such luck. They were going to fall, and probably hard.

 

“Don’t worry about that. It’s nothing.” It _was_ nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

“It looks like the same person from before.”

 

_What?_

 

“What person from before?” She knew she sounded indifferent, and she was pleased with herself. No one beats her at this game.

 

“‘ _I miss you. And your tongue_.’”

 

It was jarring to hear the words come out of Therese’s mouth, and with such nonchalance. She hated the way Tara had phrased that note. She hated that she had pushed it under her door, and she hated that Harge had walked into the apartment first that night to intercept it. But most of all, she hated herself for letting this happen. She had allowed the Tara conquest to drag on, long past its expiration date. And why? _Why?_ She realized that understanding that was going to be necessary in order for her to move past it completely.

 

“I was involved with someone that I’m no longer involved with. I don’t want you to think it means anything, because it doesn’t.” Carol waited.

 

“So you broke up with this person but they’re still leaving notes on your door - how did they even do that? Do they come to your apartment at random times?” Therese sounded like she was mocking her.

 

Carol gave herself a moment to think of something else to say that may indirectly answer some of these questions. Carol wanted to brush them off, shake them off like crumbs sprinkled on her, but so far she had only managed to spread them, breaking some of them into even more pieces that littered her.

 

“It’s over. I’m not seeing her anymore. She lives in this building, which is why she feels as if she has the right to leave these notes and show up unannounced.” Carol realized she had said more than was necessary. She didn’t know if Therese even remembered Tara’s impromptu appearance.

 

“Is that the girl who came by the other night while I was here?”

 

Carol desperately wanted to lie. She could come up with something. It was easy for her. Someone trying to sell something, a friend begging for attention… but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She looked straight out the window at the window ledge on the building directly across the street where a bird was walking, precariously moving on its small feet 23 stories above the ground. She wanted it to jump off and fly - just dive, let go - why torture yourself?

 

“Yes.”

 

Therese was standing, watching… waiting? For what? Carol kept herself as still as she could. Her blood rushing around and her heartbeat thudding softly were already fulfilling more than enough of her need for movement. She expected Therese to just walk out; she looked as if she was done trying to understand, or just done with hearing Carol’s flat, unfeeling answers.

 

Instead, before she could even register Therese’s quick movement toward her, her lips were being crushed, Therese’s teeth banged them against the inside of her lip, and she could taste a drop of blood inside her mouth. Therese latched on to her lower lip and dragged it out with her teeth mercilessly, raking over the tiny incision her teeth had just made. Carol felt a zing of pain radiate out, but it had begun to fade, pulsing rhythmically but diminishing in intensity with each pulse like the aftermath of a camera flash. She felt hands push her shoulders, forcefully, and fell back onto her arm. She caught herself, unsure of what was happening and whether she was going to let it. She looked into Therese’s eyes to find something wild finally being released after being contained for so long. Carol couldn’t tell what it was; she had so many questions but could put none of them into words. Therese pushed her again, almost violently, and Carol’s arm gave out beneath her, letting her body fall unprotected onto the couch. She was trapped, a ladybug, deep red, speckled with that unavoidable blackness - the holes that gave her away - stuck on its back. She could stand. She could push Therese off her. She was stronger than Therese, no doubt. But Therese suddenly banged her thigh violently against her, and the energy of her confusion, exhilaration, apprehension all flowed like a torrent down to where their bodies met.

 

Therese wouldn’t look away, and Carol, for once, forced herself to look back at her. She stared, terrified, into her green eyes.

 

“Is this what you want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know your thoughts. Y'all have been asking some TOUGH questions lately, which is great because it pushes me to think (although really, I don't have all the answers). :)


	24. No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please read this very important note that will give you the background you need to understand the timeline of this chapter!**
> 
> We left Therese and Carol on the couch on Saturday afternoon.
> 
> The events of the first section of this chapter occur on Sunday night.
> 
> The events of the second section occur on Monday morning.
> 
> And then, finally, in the last section, we'll return to Saturday.

Carol tapped on the door lightly with her key. The door opened quickly after a few high-pitched laughs and the pitter-patter of a pair of feet from inside running down the entry hallway. Tara was wearing a pair of pajama shorts with a white tank top, holding a glass of wine in one hand. She was inexplicably wearing her various expensive bracelets and a pair of diamond earrings, no doubt paid for by her parents, just like this over-the-top apartment. She looked like she was about to go to a teenage girl’s sleepover party. Perhaps that was, Carol thought, essentially what she was already doing right now. Her face lit up when she saw Carol.

 

“Hey youuuu!” She stuck her hand out and gently pulled on the front of Carol’s sweater to pull her inside. Carol grasped her hand and pushed it off her. She could hear the TV’s din, garbled sounds that were impossible to decipher from this distance away, and suddenly a girl’s voice yelled out.

 

“Who is it?”

 

Tara looked at Carol and gave her a devilish grin as she responded.

 

“It’s Carol!” Carol was about to start speaking when Tara added, “So why don’t you go down to Josh and Alyssa’s and give us an hour?” She looked at Carol again. “Maybe two?” She was addressing Emily but was clearly asking Carol, trying to get an idea of what would be on the menu tonight.

 

“Tara, that’s not what this is. I want to talk to you.” Carol was speaking barely above a whisper.

 

“Okay, what is it?” Tara crossed her arms and looked expectantly at Carol as she took a sip of wine.

 

“No, not… not here. Why don’t we go to my apartment?” Carol instantly regretted it - it was going to confuse the purpose of their talk, but she didn’t think it was fair to Tara to have the conversation she was about to have with her roommate in the next room or in the middle of the hallway.

 

Tara smiled knowingly.

 

“Okay just let me grab my keys.”

 

“Bring a sweatshirt, Tara, it’s cold.” Carol was still standing in the hallway just outside the door.

 

Tara rolled her eyes and came back from the living room wearing a hoodie that jangled with the sound of her keys in its pocket. Tara talked the entire way to the elevator.

 

They stood waiting for the elevator and Carol felt as if she was playing Russian roulette. Anyone could be standing in that elevator when the doors opened. And they would see her, with with her immaculately styled blonde hair and slim-fitting black pants and black cashmere turtleneck sweater, standing with arms crossed, and next to her would be a 23-year-old wearing pink pajama shorts with her hair in a messy bun. They were 13 years apart, but it may as well have been 30. Carol looked over at her and suddenly felt sick at the thought of what she had done with this girl. She had the body of an adult, but the maturity of a teenager, and Carol had taken full advantage of that, whether she was aware of it or not. This girl didn’t need a woman in her mid-thirties using her like a plaything when she had just come out. So why was Carol still doing it?

 

She had slammed the door on every one of her conquests immediately after she had claimed her prize, yet with Tara, she had kept the door open - or cracked, so that Tara had to come looking for her, but might be able to push it open if Carol was in the right mood. What was different about this girl that kept her hanging on? It wasn’t her intelligence, which was questionable; it wasn’t her beauty, as Carol had had many beautiful women; it wasn’t their emotional connection, as there was none. But Tara did live in the building, and because of her easier access to Carol, because Carol had left that door cracked, and because Carol knew Tara was enamoured with her, she knew that eventually, periodically, Tara would burst through it looking for her, looking for a piece of her. Wanting the piece of her that Carol tried to deny while vehemently trying to satiate it. And if someone was coming for that piece, it couldn’t be completely repulsive. If _someone_ was coming through that door, she wasn’t always alone. The substance of that company didn’t matter - what mattered is that someone else with a beating heart, a similar desire saw what she hated about herself and delighted in it. She wanted to cry; cry for this girl, cry for how little she knew, cry for herself and her hopeless heart. But she couldn’t, she had to rein it in and get this over with.

 

The elevator door opened and there was a split-second when all Carol could see through the cracked doors was a hand. A woman’s hand. Her heart was pounding, but as the doors opened, they came face to face with a middle-aged woman wearing a jean jacket and a pair of day-glo orange sunglasses. It was 10pm. It was a bizarre image that could have incited a laugh in a different circumstance. No matter, Carol would have been fine if there was a damn tiger with them in that elevator, as long as it wasn’t Therese.

 

As soon as she closed the apartment door behind her, Carol sighed deeply and began talking.

 

“Tara, I want to-”

 

Carol paused when she came out of the entryway to see Tara already on her couch, her tank top and hoodie flung onto the floor in one united piece. She kneeled on the couch, naked from the waist up.

 

“Is this what you want?”

 

* * *

 

“No.”

 

“Why not? I’m not asking you to lie or pretend, or even to wear the rings. We can just… keep our personal matters private.”

 

“Harge, we don’t share any personal matters anymore. This has to stop. I’m not going to keep nodding along.” Every so often at a client dinner or firm event, someone would reference Harge and Carol’s perfect marriage or make a cheeky joke about how Carol must be in charge of _everything_ at home. Harge would laugh along, and Carol did her part to aid in the deceit by giving a weak smile. She would relieve herself of that smile by occupying her lips with whatever libation she was holding with her long, slender hand, diamonds shining on her ring finger.

 

Harge had made no mention of their recent conversation in his office in which Carol had questioned why they were still putting on this facade, as if the fact that he didn’t want to hear it had allowed him to push it outside his brain, headed for the same limitless space where the rest of his denial about Carol now lived. She had brought it up yet again, but felt like she was having deja vu. They were on a sinister merry-go-round that they had been circling on for years, every rotation leaving Carol more exhausted and bitter and Harge more insistent to keep its feeble, rusted motor running.

 

“Well then what do you suggest we do? Do you want me to call my father right now and tell him you’ve decided to put your own interests ahead of this firm, what we - what all of us - have built together?”

 

“This has nothing to do with the firm, and you know that.” Harge’s father was under no delusion that they were still a couple, and Harge knew that, too. And judging by his father’s words and actions, which despite everything that had happened to shake her confidence lately, Carol was still sure she could read, his father didn’t care. The financial security of the firm was stable; he barely even contributed anymore. Carol believed that the only reason he stayed silent on the matter was because he was letting his son call the shots and toil through whatever personal ties he had caught in this hopeless web of his feelings for her.

 

She had enabled it; and the guilt that had been building up forced her to push him on this issue despite the fact that looking at his face, full of hurt and pleading, made her want to do nothing more than to turn and sprint out the door, out of the office, out of this cruel cage she had kept them both in. She was the only one who could find the key and release them both. Harge was still hanging onto the latch, expending all his energy to keep it closed from the inside. The outside was the unknown, and from the inside it looked dark and cold; the grime of fear, codependence, and complacency had dirtied it and obscured the view of what lay beyond.

 

If she was ever going to heal that tiny, broken part of her true self that still remained, she had to release them both. She was about to speak when Harge interrupted what was about to come out.

 

“I’ll just call Dad now then.” He picked up the phone and began to dial on speakerphone.

 

Carol cocked her head and looked at him, shaking her head slightly. He was obsessed with this, using his father as the excuse to make Carol change her mind. It was absurd, it made no sense, as if he thought threatening the financial security of the firm by withdrawing his father’s now almost nonexistent support would prevent the same thing - threatening the financial security of the firm by admitting that their partnership no longer worked. He was desperate and couldn’t think of anything else to do. As he looked at her, his breathing unsteady, she felt her eyes getting glassy. She willed herself to reabsorb what threatened to spill out of her, to draw them back down into the security of her closed-down heart using the vacuum of her own fear of breaking down in front of Harge.

 

The line was still on speakerphone and another ring blared like the musical embodiment of a gunshot. Tears finally started to form in Harge’s eyes, and she saw that he wasn’t going to be able to retract them as she had done. He forced himself to speak.

 

“Is this what you want?”

 

* * *

 

_No._

 

Therese was still on top of her, still applying force with her thigh, and still looking at Carol fiercely, challenging her… and begging her. Carol knew what Therese wanted, and it had nothing to do with their bodies. Carol felt her insides squeezing, torsing, clenching to try to hold on to what she wanted, but felt she couldn’t, give.

 

Carol searched Therese’s eyes, allowed herself to let go of control of her own, as she felt she couldn’t truly see into Therese’s unless she opened her own in the same way. She followed those green irises, looped around them, tried to crawl inside them, and finally let herself fall over the window ledge, praying to god that she would begin to fly before she fell all the way.

 

“No.”

 

The tears defied gravity and started brimming, then finally, one brave, unstoppable tear made the leap over the edge of her eyelid and fell sideways out the corner of her eye, and she felt it wet the spot on the couch next to her as if it were a flood. More came, volunteering themselves, jumping off the cliff and eventually leaving Carol unable to stop herself from letting out a noise, a soft convulsion of her body. Therese loosened her grip and laid own on top of Carol to wrap her arms tightly around her as Carol started to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a little more time than usual thinking about this chapter. To be honest, I usually just sit down at the computer and let whatever is in my head spill out, but the many insightful comments and my own spinning thoughts finally gave me pause. Hopefully y'all understand what's going on here, the timeline is a bit jumbled, but it had to be! :)
> 
> Thoughts are always welcomed and encouraged.


	25. Antidote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll start with some *feelings* beacause... you know... lesbians.

“It’s okay.” Therese breathed into Carol’s ear. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

Carol continued to cry softly, her arms crushed in against her chest as Therese enveloped her completely, both arms wrapped around her. Her right hand came up to stroke Carol’s hair, and Carol finally leaned back just far enough to look up at Therese. She felt as if her skin had been taken away, her muscles stripped, her fragile nerves exposed and receptive to the smallest sensation. She was entirely undone, more than naked, a fruit whose rind was long peeled, and now the tender flesh near her very core was being gently coaxed free. The tears that flowed like rain from her eyes were dense with meaning; desperately trying to release a seemingly endless well of disappointment, regret, and self-contempt. But what she held on to, now, was the one thing above all else that she had spent over ten years trying to contain and squelch, silence and murder - fear. Fear of her own actions, fear of her own ability to love, fear of the person she was, fear of having no ex-husband, no rings, no blood red coat, and no alternative identities to hide behind.

 

She looked into Therese’s eyes and saw them moving back-and-forth ever so slightly, like reading the lines of a poem, seeking something in Carol’s eyes. She leaned in and kissed the side of Carol’s face where the silent streams of her catharsis were still glistening softly in the afternoon light. Therese traced the tip of her nose along Carol’s cheek before finally hovering her lips over Carol’s, waiting. Carol could feel her breath and just the slightest, feather-light touch of the most prominent, curved parts of Therese’s lips, and understood that Therese was going to let Carol come to her. Carol thought for a second about backing away to wipe her eyes, knowing that her mascara must be running down her face. But she didn’t. She pushed herself forward incrementally, just a millimeter at a time, so that they could both feel their lips pressing together and putting more and more pressure on one another at an achingly slow pace.

 

* * *

 

Therese could feel the wetness of Carol’s tears mixed with the softness of her face, the wetness of the inside of her mouth mixed with the softness of her lips; a meeting of wet and dry, all mixed with that black running down Carol’s face. But it wasn’t the vile black liquid she had imagined extracting from Carol and dousing herself in just minutes ago. Instead that black came pouring out of her eyes with the rest of her, everything she had been holding in. If Carol was making space inside her, Therese wanted to be in it. She wanted to swim through her veins and touch whatever this pain was, just like she had wanted to after her first deep look into Carol’s eyes in Carol’s apartment. Then, that pain had been untouchable, barely visible and completely inaccessible. Therese wanted to understand, but had felt she would never have the chance. And now, it was coming up, out of Carol, all over Carol, and onto Therese.

 

Therese let her lips detach silently from Carol’s and ran the backs of two fingers against Carol’s cheek, feeling the slight skid in their path as she slid across the wetness. Carol reached up and took Therese’s hand in her own, turned it, and kissed the back of her hand slowly, eyes closed. When she opened them and slid her fingers in between Therese’s so that their hands clasped, she used the other to wipe her own tears for the first time, then rested it against Therese’s cheek.

 

“Thank you darling.”

 

* * *

 

There was a small hardware store on 3rd that Carol decided to stop at after work on Monday. As she was standing in the paint aisle, a man in ripped jeans and hands that looked like they had been through an oven, deeply dry and cracked, approached her.

 

“Do you need any help?” He was smiling with a subtly lascivious look on his face, his question phrased with undeniable condescension, and she knew why. There she was in a knee length navy blue wool coat with three inch heels, no doubt needing the help of a good man in an environment such as this.

 

“No.” It pissed her off that he was not only assuming she needed help but also approaching her as if she were a piece of meat to be tenderized then devoured. He nodded once and backed away.

 

She finally turned from watching him walk away back to the supplies in front of her. Spackle, spackling knife, sandpaper, paintbrush.

 

On the way back to her apartment, she felt the cool October air inching horizontally in through the gaps in her coat buttons, down into the neckline, and up through the bottom hemline. She came to stop at a crosswalk and while she waited, she took a deep, chest-raising breath, then let it out like it was carrying some dirty toxin out of her body.

 

* * *

 

She knelt in front of the red wall and ran her hand over the irregular, splintered gash, slipping her fingers into the drywall beneath to gather some of the white dust, then ran it between her fingers. She carefully and with great ceremony spackled, scraped away the excess, and walked away to let it dry.

 

As she went into her bedroom, she stopped and turned to look at her nightstand. She opened the bottom drawer where all her bedroom accessories lived, and looked at her red dildo, the one she _only_ used on herself, by herself, then lifted out all three black dildos - the one that was unwrapped, and the other two which were still in their packaging - and brought them into the kitchen. She lifted the lid on the trash can and dropped all three in, on top of coffee grounds, a banana peel, and a smattering of other items that were appealing enough in their original form, but became grotesque when mixed and discarded. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the kitchen. The basket. She just looked at the small cardboard box for a moment, then picked it up and put it in her work bag, nestled safely next to her laptop.

 

When the spackle was dry, she dug the small can of red paint out of the front hall closet, its lid surrounded by a crust of old paint, like blood left to coagulate and rot. Once she mixed it carefully, she dipped the tip of the brush into it and lifted it, watching the paint ribbon sensuously back into the can. As she applied the first steady, even stroke to the now patched wall, she smiled to herself.

 

* * *

 

Noelle had called on Sunday and Therese felt she had no choice but to answer. She knew it would be exhausting to even begin to explain what had transpired since they last spoke, but she may as well start now in case the drama wasn’t over and she would have to tell “Part 2” - whatever that might be - when they spoke again.

 

“Jesus Christ, you made her _cry_?” Noelle was laughing.

 

“No. I mean, it wasn’t really me. And you and Dylan were both right, she has an ex-husband who is sometimes at the apartment, and she was also sleeping with some young girl on the 12th floor.” Therese stated it matter-of-factly, as if it was no big deal.

 

“Wow. Well that sounds like someone you definitely want to get involved with. Does she keep a tally on her bedpost? You could be the latest crooked notch on it. Wait, have you slept together?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hmm. Why not?”

 

“We just haven’t. I feel something for this woman.”

 

“Jesus Therese, with all the beautiful, _available_ girls you’ve rejected, you have to choose someone complicated and with a reputation? Why is her ex-husband there if they’re divorced? Are you sure they’re divorced?”

 

Therese was exasperated and starting to get angry.

 

“Yes they’re actually divorced. They work together and they still have to do a lot of stuff together, so…” She trailed off, knowing that wasn’t really an explanation.

 

“Um, okay. Just be careful.”

 

“I am being careful. And you’re the one who’s always telling me to take a chance and let someone in. And now that I am you’re being a pain in the ass about it.” Therese was on the verge of tears. Yes, Carol was a tangled web, and maybe even a trap, but she had to glide along it and at least try to follow her beautiful black widow. She couldn’t help herself. And as much as it was a risk, and she could be bitten at any moment, she also finally understood what that feeling was - that tendril in her that she had thought was completely absent, but was now being nourished for the first time, growing unstoppably out of her towards Carol. No matter what happened with Carol, she knew it was there inside her after all.

 

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, kid.” The line was silent before Noelle spoke again, purposefully relieving Therese of the need to say anything else.

 

“By the way, did that bowtie tenant leader guy with the stick up his ass pick up my proposal yet? I’m gonna grow you some organic tomatoes that’ll heal anything you got.”

 

* * *

 

“All right, great. We’ll have Mr. Johnson available at 10am for the first meeting, so please be sure the designers arrive by 9:30.”

 

“Absolutely. Thank you Linda.” Carol hung up the phone. Normally, she would have been awaiting the call from Johnson’s office impatiently, but with everything going on with Therese, Tara, and Harge, she had not had one iota of energy remaining to actually think about work. She thought wearily about having all four designers off-site for the meetings on Wednesday, as they always had print deadlines on Thursday and those three designers - Therese, of course, didn’t work there yet - were still finishing up other projects before starting on Johnson’s. However, Linda stated more than once that he had strongly insisted on seeing each designer individually, then to have a group meeting at the end of the day to begin discussing strategy in earnest.

 

Harge had avoided her all of Tuesday morning, but he came into her office after lunch, closed the door, and sat immediately in one of the chairs opposite her desk. Carol turned to him and waited, but he didn’t look at her or speak for about fifteen seconds.

 

“So what needs to change? How do we… do this?”

 

“I’m not exactly sure yet. No more visits to the apartment. I think we need to really drop all pretense in front of everyone, no matter how important they are. Maybe the party on the 6th is a good time to start with a more concrete presentation, and for the next couple weeks we’ll just let the idea spread organically until then.” As she thought up this plan, she was already weary of it. Another lie, another rouse. But she continued.

 

“No talk of our home life, no touching each other, no physical signs of our commitment.” That reminded her. She turned her chair and leaned over her bag on the table next to her desk and felt around until her hand closed in on the small cardboard box. She drew it out and turned around, extending it out to Harge. He waited a moment then took it. He knew what was in it. As if here were trying to make this more difficult for himself, he opened it and looked inside, then lifted the rings out and ran them through his thumb and forefinger before letting them slide into his palm and closing his hand around them.

 

* * *

 

She was sucking the poison out of her own body, the venom she had allowed to collect and some of which she had shot up herself. It bled out of her with great difficulty, burning on the way out just as much as it had going in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's the deal with Carol and her dildos?


	26. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people mentioned wanting to know what happened after Carol's emotional release on Saturday evening. Well, I asked my brain to tell me and oh boy, did it ever. Here we have some Class A, saccharine-sweet lady loving (not that kind).

_Saturday Night_

 

They were silent for about ten minutes, Carol periodically moving just the tiniest bit to nestle closer into Therese or to run her finger slowly back and forth across the back of Therese’s hand. Carol was still for a few minutes and Therese moved her head carefully, trying not to disrupt her, and saw that she had fallen asleep. Therese could feel Carol’s breath like the lightest tickle on her neck. The arm she had under Carol was starting to tingle, but she didn’t dare move; she would let her arm be deprived of all blood and fall off before she risked moving Carol from this vulnerable, angelic position. Instead, she closed her eyes, giving her other senses an opportunity to enjoy this moment. She could smell the lightest drift of Carol’s perfume, still clinging to her with a hint of something else - something less artificial - and realized it was probably just Carol’s natural scent. She breathed it in like oxygen, but less tangible, like it was something nameless and invisible but absolutely essential that she had been deprived of her entire life. She could hear Carol’s breath only when she held her own, and even then it was somewhat elusive. Her skin was warm and smooth, the curves of her body creating areas of positive space, like her breasts pushing into Therese’s, or relief, like where her hip curved outward and left a small, crescent-shaped gap between them.

 

 _A hug, feeling safe, her childhood bed._ Except it wasn’t her house - it wasn’t the house she had grown up in with her mother’s wooden bedroom door with Therese’s drawing of a ladybug on it at the end of the hall. It was smaller, and there was more light. She wanted to lay in front of those windows like a cat, curled up and content. She _was_ curled up and content. But a noise, maybe a knock, maybe a machine of some sort, kept her from the peace of her cozy window seat. She tried to ignore it. What the hell was it? Therese felt herself rising, floating to the surface of her sleep, like one’s body feels after plunging into water from a height but feeling the unavoidable pull of the air in your lungs back up to the surface. She opened her eyes and realized she was still here, laying on the couch, Carol still asleep in her arms. That noise - that pounding - it was coming from the apartment above Carol’s. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but judging by how loud it was she could only imagine that someone was banging a hammer repeatedly onto the hardwood floor directly over where she and Carol lay.

 

She looked down to see Carol stirring, then finally opening her eyes slowly. She saw Therese and closed her eyes again for a few moments.

 

“What time is it?”

 

Therese sat up enough to grab her phone off the coffee table.

 

“It’s 8:30.”

 

“Oh god, we slept for quite a long time, didn’t we?” She looked surprised, almost guilty, and sat up quickly. Her mascara had dried in imperfect lines, the undeniable ghost of her release, evidence that neither of them could ignore. Carol stood up and smoothed the front of her clothes and straightened her back, Therese delighting in the fact that she was taking such steps to appear presentable when she had clearly forgotten that she had the mascara on her face. How different this woman in front of her appeared compared to the first few times she had seen her. How impermanent everything was - her makeup, her clothes, her expressions. She had clearly tried to affix her integument such that it appeared immovable, impossible to pry off. But here it was, literally running down her face.

 

“You’re beautiful.” Therese looked up at her and smiled, waiting for Carol to look back down. When she did, she let out a little laugh and shook her head.

 

“I need to freshen up. Do you want to fix us some drinks?” She was speaking distractedly, picking up her shoes that had been kicked off. When she made eye contact again, her face changed a bit. “Oh, unless you have other plans, of course.”

 

“I don’t have other plans. You were my only plans.”

 

Carol smiled.

 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

As she walked away, Therese hoisted herself off the couch and took a moment before standing up. As she was on her way to the kitchen, she heard the shower come on, quickly followed by a gasp.

 

“Oh my lord! I look dreadful!” Therese smiled to herself.

 

* * *

 

Carol pulled some things out of her fridge as Therese stood and leaned her back against the kitchen counter.

 

“I don’t have much, but I can make us a salad. Sorry I can’t offer you something more substantial.”

 

Therese stared straight ahead, still groggy from their nap, and said robotically, “Well all I had when you were at my place were turnips.”

 

Therese just stood and watched Carol as she chopped and diced, her hands moving as if powered by a smooth, flawless engine. They ate their salads and had two more vodkas, eventually ending up back on the couch. Therese could feel herself getting a little fuzzy, the edges of her words a little blurry, melding into Carol’s as they talked and laughed back and forth.

 

There was a natural pause in conversation and Therese looked over to see Carol watching her closely. Her eyes were studying her, and Therese was sure that Carol was trying to gather some specific information. Her eyes were focused and direct, yet gentle and soft, like water flowing on a small, calm river but backed by miles of more water that could be released at any moment, creating a deluge that they could both drown in together. Therese could feel herself wanting to close her eyes, but she fought it, not wanting to close off the image of Carol looking at her this way, her hair dried in unstyled, loose waves after her shower, her lips finally naked of their usual thick red veil. She allowed herself to close her eyes, just for a moment, then felt Carol’s hand on her arm, rubbing it lightly.

 

“You need to sleep, darling. Come with me.”

 

Therese finally registered the words and realized that Carol was walking towards her bedroom. The thought flashed in her mind, but she dismissed it. That wasn’t Carol’s angle. But Therese realized that it wasn’t Carol she didn’t trust - it was herself. But her exhaustion won out, and she got up to follow Carol to the bedroom. When she walked through the door, Carol was leaned over one of the nightstands, turning on a dim, modern square lamp. She shut off the overhead light and walked toward the bed. She was looking at Therese, rubbing her hands on her yoga pants. She looked nervous. Suddenly, she almost jumped.

 

“Oh! I’m going to brush my teeth. I have an extra toothbrush in the guest bathroom. I’ll go get it for you.”

 

When Therese came out of the bathroom, Carol was already in the bed, reclined, leaning against the headboard. Therese realized that neither of them had discussed or questioned why Therese wasn’t sleeping in one of the two other bedrooms in the apartment. When Therese laid down, Carol turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow and paused for a moment. She leaned over and placed a soft, gentle kiss on Therese’s cheek. Her hand came up and rested where her lips had been, letting the energy flow between them for just another moment.

 

“Goodnight darling.” She smiled and turned over, facing the edge of the bed. Therese looked at her for a moment, studying her sculpted back and the divine curve of her hip that rose up as she laid on her side. Therese slid over and pressed herself against Carol’s back, laying her arm across her waist gently. As she was about to close her eyes, she felt Carol’s hand close over her own and pull it up towards her chest before winding their fingers together.

  


* * *

 

_Tuesday Night_

 

Therese was sitting next to the hostess stand on a stool that had rungs along the bottom that she loved to hook a heel under to support the weight of her legs as she crossed them. It had become like muscle memory - sit, hook, cross, whip out her phone. It was the routine of the afternoon slump at the restaurant. She scrolled through her emails, stopping on the one that she had read over and over since it came in earlier that morning. It was from Debbie, Carol’s assistant. She was to be at Johnson’s office at 9:15 on Wednesday morning. She had a personal appointment with him at 1:30. There wasn’t much information in the email; she had no idea what she was supposed to do or bring to this meeting, but she didn’t want to reply to Debbie with a question, first because she didn’t want to seem clueless, but also because she didn’t want it to get back to Carol that she wasn’t exactly sure how to handle “real” business situations. Carol was clearly an expert and Therese didn’t want to highlight her own inexperience.

 

Once five o’clock rolled around, the dinner rush started up and she was busy. As customers came in one after the other, she allowed herself to notice her own boredom even in the busiest moments at the restaurant. The same conversation, over and over. She rarely had to count higher than ten (unless there was a particularly large group coming in) and she rarely had to use any more than the thirty or so words she repeated over and over, countless times a day. She was in her head today, seeing things from an entirely different perspective. She was going to start a job, a _real_ job, in the field she wanted to be in. She would no longer be saying “right this way” eighty-four times a day. Hopefully.

 

But the small, insistent thought that she had been trying to push away crawled back up around the edge of her brain, tapping on it as if it were promising her if would only insist more if she ignored it. Why did she have this opportunity? Was it because Carol truly saw something special in her drawings that day in the elevator, or was she just trying to get closer to Therese? She kept reminding herself that Carol had chosen her as the designer to bring to her meeting with Johnson to represent the quality of work the firm could provide, and it had ultimately been Johnson himself who had decided her work was worthwhile. Even if Carol’s personal interest in her had given her a leg up to meet someone who could hire her, her work was what convinced Johnson to take on the firm.

 

This job, this opportunity to do what she felt she was meant to do, this feeling that had risen inside her the past few weeks - it all came through the same vein, the vein that was sustaining this high she was on. Carol had come into her life and swept everything up, stirred all her dust, her hope, all the cobwebs and dirt along with the fragments of her optimism that she had thought irrecoverable. They had become a swirling, dirty, wonderful mess, but she felt ecstatic covered in its debris.

 

When she walked out of the restaurant a little after ten, she saw that she had a missed call. It was from Carol. She hadn’t left a voicemail. Therese looked at Carol’s name on her call list, in a bright bold red from having been missed. It could be about the meeting with Johnson tomorrow. But if it had been important, wouldn’t she have left a message? Therese thought about texting her - it would be less stressful than having an actual conversation on the phone, pressured to think clearly and respond in an appropriate time and manner. Those same nerves that twitched at the thought were actually what spurred her to open her missed calls and press Carol’s name, calling her instead. Her heart was racing as she heard it ring.

 

“Hello dear.” Carol’s voice came floating softly into her ear like a nighttime dream.

 

“Hi. How are you?”

 

“I’m doing well. I just wanted to call you and wish you luck tomorrow. I know you’ll impress him. And of course you’ll have to come running back to me on Thursday to tell me everything he said. I’m not particularly fond of the idea of having my designers know more about the project than I do.” She was speaking in a lighthearted, almost joking tone, but Therese knew she meant it.

 

“Of course. I’ll spare no detail. That’s a promise.”

 

“Wonderful. Well, aside from that…” There was a pause. “I also wanted to see if you were free on Saturday.”

 

“Sure.” Therese just waited, not wanting to assume what Carol was about to say.

 

There was silence for a few seconds.

 

“Well, I thought I could take you out. Wherever you want.” Her voice was a little rushed, and it reminded Therese of their first dinner date, the first time Therese had seen Carol nervous. She smiled widely to herself as she held the phone against her ear, so much so that she wondered if Carol would be able to tell by the way she pronounced her words.

 

“I’d love that.”

 

Carol made a small sound that Therese couldn’t quite get, then more confidently asked, “Where would you like to go?”

 

“I’m sure you have a better idea of what begs to be seen in this city. Show me something you love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little glimpse into one of those amazing moments in life when your complete openness and vulnerability open a space for someone else to crawl into, a perfect moment to really connect with someone. Please excuse this chapter and its lack of exciting plot, the purpose was to strengthen the beautiful string weaving itself between these two.


	27. Prism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little break from the dripping honey and flowery language for a little plot. With a new job comes new people.
> 
> Even with the Superbowl, I had to give you some Carol & Therese today.

Therese couldn’t tear her eyes off a woman with purple cat-eye-shaped glasses frames. She had dark hair tied up into a messy but somehow perfectly arranged bun. She leaned over to the guy next to her, laughing as she pointed to something on her iPad. The guy was about the same age, maybe a bit older than Therese, and he looked an awful lot like Dylan but with lighter hair slipping carelessly out of a gray beanie. Therese assumed they were two of the other designers; they couldn’t look more stereotypical of young New York City hipsters. There were two other people sitting in the large, modern lobby, sitting father away along the opposite wall. One was a man in a suit holding his briefcase on his lap, looking straight ahead as if his eyes were glued to some invisible spot in front of him, incapable of looking anywhere else. The other was an older woman reading a magazine, looking like she belonged more in the waiting room of a salon rather than the lobby of a mass media company.

 

The large, unnumbered clock above the receptionist’s desk showed 9:42. They were told to be there at 9:15, yet there had been no communication with anyone since she checked in to give her name a half hour ago. The glass door to the lobby opened and a young woman, probably even younger than Therese, walked in wearing a bright yellow dress that reached the middle of her slender, toned thigh. She was lovely, with tanned skin and full, shiny dark hair that bounced on her shoulders as she walked. It was odd to see someone wearing such a bright, summery outfit on a late October day, but it seemed as if this girl couldn’t have worn anything else, like it was made for her. She stopped at the receptionist’s desk to give her name, then walked straight towards the other two young people and hit the guy on the shoulder.

 

“Hey.” Both the guy and cat eye glasses girl kept their eyes glued to the iPad.

 

“You’re late. Like, really late.”

 

“I know, it’s terrible. I was so nervous I thought I was gonna throw up.”

 

Cat eye girl finally looked at her.

 

“Why? It’s the same as anything else. We just have to kiss his ass.”

 

Beanie guy looked up.

 

“More than we already do to Carol?”

 

Yellow dress girl sat back in her chair.

 

“We don’t really suck up to Carol.”

 

Cat eye girl leaned over to look at her.

 

“Jasmine, you suck up to Carol like your life depends on it.”

 

Jasmine. That was exactly what this girl’s name would be. Therese didn’t know any other Jasmines, aside from the cartoon character, but knew that whenever she heard that name from now on she would think of this girl.

 

“Whatever.” Jasmine put her bag on the floor and scanned the room, her eyes landing on Therese.

 

“Therese?” She was looking right at her.

 

Therese was completely thrown off by this girl suddenly addressing her by name.

 

“Yeah,” she answered hesitantly.

 

Jasmine got up and came over to her, extending her tanned, manicured hand.

 

“I’m Jasmine. This is Cory and April.” The other two got up and came over. “From the firm. Carol told us a little about you yesterday.” Therese felt excitement creeping up in her just at the mention of Carol’s name, and she was dying to know exactly what Carol had said about her.

 

Jasmine took a deep breath and looked at Therese excitedly.

 

“So, I’m insanely nervous. It might seem like it’s easier for us because we know each other already but I can promise you I am losing it. Clearly you’re not, you look as calm as can be.”

 

Therese laughed.

 

“I promise, I’m not.”

 

They stood around talking for another few minutes, and Therese was trying to find a way to steer the conversation back to Carol. These people had spent a lot of time with her, undoubtedly more than Therese, and she wanted to gather all the information she possibly could. Thankfully, Jasmine brought her up while they were talking about Johnson.

 

“Carol said he was incredibly charming. He can persuade anyone to do anything.”

 

Cory looked at Jasmine and narrowed his eyes.

 

“Is that a good thing?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s all she said.”

 

April looked over at Therese.

 

“I’m not sure how much you’ve interacted with Carol yet, but she’s not exactly verbose. I spent the first year working for her praying she would explain things in more than three words. Never happened.”

 

Therese couldn’t help herself.

 

“Is she a good boss?”

 

Jasmine jumped in excitedly.

 

“Oh absolutely. She’s incredibly hard-working and unbelievably talented at what she does.” She was incredibly eager, but Therese was already learning in the few minutes since they began talking that that is just how positive and bouncy this girl was. Cory and April looked at each other and smiled.

 

Cory looked at Jasmine, who was smiling widely at Therese, and followed her gaze until he was also looking at Therese.

 

“She’s a good boss. She won’t be afraid to call you on your bullshit, but no one could really do her job without being that way. She knows her shit. But yeah, she’s pretty succinct. You want to know exactly what you’re asking when you go into her office, because you don’t want to waste her time.”

 

April touched Therese’s arm.

 

“She’s kind of a bitch. But she can make any man cower at her feet and she never cracks under pressure. It’s kind of amazing.”

 

The receptionist’s voice popped the bubble Therese was in, trying to scrape up all the details about Carol.

 

“Laura is going to show you four around first, then Mr. Johnson will start meeting with you individually. While each of you is in with him, the rest of you will meet with some of the other staff.”

 

A middle-aged woman wearing a gray tweed dress came towards them. Her hair was blow dried do a height of about a foot. Therese was amazed that it didn’t sway of its own accord when she walked.

 

“I’m Laura, nice to meet you all. Jasmine, Cory, April, Therese.” She smiled. She must have been supplied some sort of information on them prior - including a picture, since she pointed at each of them as she said their names, clearly feeling very proud of herself. “Let’s take a walk around and then Mr. Johnson will start with you, Cory.”

 

* * *

 

By 1pm, Therese was already tired of walking around and meeting new people. She must have shook over fifty hands, dozens of names and titles flowing in one ear and out the other. They had lunch in a conference room, and Therese was already getting confident in the general personality of each of the other three designers. Cory was soft-spoken and a little nerdy, and April was also quiet, but confident and quick. And Jasmine was Jasmine. She was lovely, pleasant, and did her best to include Therese.

 

There was a stretch of about ten minutes when Cory was in with Mr. Johnson and April had gone off to the bathroom, or to get water, or wherever, that Therese and Jasmine were sitting alone at the conference table. Jasmine had just made a joke that they were laughing at, and Therese could feel Jasmine’s eyes on her and looked up. She was smiling, lips closed, and held eye contact for just a moment longer than was comfortable. For the first time all day, she looked just the slightest bit serious. Therese suddenly felt that little section of her brain reserved for sensing the dispositions of other women light up. Therese gave her a small smile and looked down at the table.

 

* * *

 

“Well, Therese, you already know what I think of your work.”

 

Therese smiled, appreciating the compliment but remembering that Johnson hadn’t said a single word about her work during that meeting with Carol, but she understood that she was supposed to take his silence as high praise.

 

“Well, listen, I know you report to Carol, but when you’re here, I want you to come to me with any questions. My door is always open, and I’m more than happy to talk about whatever you’re working on. Don’t ever hesitate to come talk to me, no matter how small the detail.”

 

Therese was a bit tripped up by his assumption that she reported to Carol. Did she? She had been hearing the others refer to Carol as their boss all day, but Therese hadn’t actually thought about her and Carol’s dynamic specifically - she thought she would be dealing only with Johnson. _Report to_. It sounded so official. How can she report to the woman she spent hours holding on her couch the other day? She operated in an entirely different sphere than the other designers, seeing a face of Carol’s impossibly complicated prism that they didn’t even know existed - the vulnerable, self-doubting one that she worked tirelessly to keep in the shadows. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to reconcile those two Carols, or how she would be able to look at Carol with anything but obvious adoration in her eyes. But it was a problem for another day; she could only worry about what was in front of her right now: Johnson.

 

“I hope to make you feel comfortable here. We very much work together as a cross-functional team, and I try to make this a casual environment where you can be yourself.” He winked at her.

 

After talking about some of the goals for the project, Johnson encouraged Therese to throw out some ideas. When he first looked at her expectantly, she felt as if she were shoved on stage in front of hundreds of people, forced to think on her feet. She forced herself to start talking and found that words were just streaming out of her mouth. She didn’t know anything about business, but she knew about this. She knew her own ideas. They glided in and out of her head constantly, they rode waves up and down her consciousness, being swayed by her environment at any given moment, she just hadn’t allowed herself to tap into them in a long time. This wasn’t like most other things where she had to monitor and structure her thoughts, it came easily and she was confident when explaining her ideas. She found Johnson smiling at her several times.

 

They had been talking for forty-five minutes when the receptionist knocked on the door.

 

“Mr. Johnson, so sorry to interrupt, but it’s 2:15.”

 

“Ah, thank you Linda. We’ll be right out.” They both stood and Johnson walked around his desk, reaching to shake Therese’s hand and taking hers in both of his. “Can’t wait to get started, Therese. I can tell you’re a great talent, dear.”

 

* * *

 

Therese collapsed on the couch, finally having showered and changed into comfortable clothes at 10pm. Johnson had kept them in the office past six, then insisted on taking them all out for dinner and drinks. She reflected on the fact that she spent most of the day sitting around socializing, excluding the forty-five minutes she spent talking to Johnson about work. The schmoozing was not her scene, but she knew the job would be worth whatever nonsense she had to endure. Her one-eyed friend came jumping up on her the moment she sat down, bumping against Therese’s hand, begging to be pet. She obliged, smiling, then caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The elusive, beautiful Melody was strutting out of one of the bedrooms, stretching, no doubt slinking out from under one of the beds. She looked directly at Therese, paused for a moment, then started walking towards her. Therese didn’t move. This could be the first time Melody actually came to her. She stopped to sniff at Therese’s portfolio leaning against the wall, taking her time. She then looked back at Therese, seeming to ponder something. She was in no hurry, striding around, her beautiful fur shining. She finally made her way to the couch and jumped up. Therese held out her hand, and Melody came to it, sniffing, then rubbed her smooth little head against Therese’s hand. After a little coaxing, she laid next to Therese on the couch, the entire left side of her warm body snuggled against Therese’s thigh. Therese was surprised at her own pride at luring this cat out of her hiding place after weeks of Melody completely ignoring her. Even the haughtiest of princesses needed affection sometimes.

 

Her phone dinged.

 

C: I can’t wait until tomorrow to know. How did it go?

 

T: Great. I met with him for about 45 minutes. I pretty much talked the whole time.

 

C: How did you like him?

 

T: Fine, he seems really nice.

 

C: Oh good. So, how are you? Exhausted?

 

T: Yeah, we went out for a three hour dinner that probably cost more than what I make in a week.

 

C: Welcome to the business world, darling. Don’t worry, you’ll be bent over a desk at 3am soon enough, wishing you were drinking at an overpriced restaurant.

 

T: So what am I doing tomorrow?

 

C: Can I just call you? I can’t keep up with your young person texting speed.

 

T: Please do. :)

 

When her phone rang, Therese forced herself to let it ring once before answering. Carol spoke before she did.

 

C: “Hi darling.”

 

T: “Hi.” She smiled to herself.

 

C: “Well about tomorrow and Friday, I want you to come into the office and work with the other three so you can get a feel for how I-” She stopped for a moment. “How we like to do things.”

 

T: All right. Will I see you?”

 

C: “I have an off-site meeting all day tomorrow and a lunch on Friday, but I will have to be there Friday afternoon for a finance meeting.” It was quiet for a moment, and when Carol spoke again, her voice changed tone. “I will find a way to see you.”

 

T: “And what are we doing Saturday?”

 

C: “I’m still thinking on it. I’ve had a lot of ideas, but I just need to make a decision.”

 

Therese thought for a moment. She desperately wanted to invite Carol downstairs, to feel her in her arms again. But things seemed to be only getting more complicated; Carol was now her boss, or at least something of the sort, and neither of them had acknowledged it, at least not to each other. She wondered if Carol was worried about it. For the moment, though, Therese was alone in the dark apartment, and she felt like her body was aching for her, like she had a crevice deep inside of her that had been filled just days ago, but was already cracking and allowing her need to make itself known again. She needed her beautiful, calming salve.

 

T: “Well, until then, I’ll be laying here under you, waiting patiently for your next move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts. :)
> 
> P.S. Who knows what I'm talking about when I mention that moment when you're talking to/looking at another woman and there's nothing obvious to suggest that she's into women but... *that* feeling comes creeping up? Gaydar on high alert. Good times.
> 
> P.P.S. We’ll hear from Carol’s brain in the next chapter.


	28. Haste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired. This one is a little longer than my usual.
> 
> **Make sure you’re caught up! I just posted the last chapter (27) earlier today, and you need that one in order to fully understand this one.**

_Friday Afternoon_

 

Carol came around the corner of the hallway that led to her office and looked around quickly at everyone out at their desks. Working, talking, laughing, moving in seemingly random patterns, buzzing around with their various tasks. There were often moments like this, when Carol stopped to really observe people, when she felt as if she were looking into a cage at the zoo, marveling at how easily and confidently they all scurried around, sure of their next task. They were all terrified underneath too, right?

 

It was 2pm and she had the meeting with the rest of the leadership team at 2:45. She dropped her bag and coat on her desk and sat for a moment to close her eyes. It had been a long and dull lunch with one of her other clients, and they had spent the majority of their meal talking about his golf game. But, she was there to keep him happy, and when a client spoke about everything _except_ the work, it was usually a sign that they were content with it.

 

She pulled out her compact and looked at herself quickly, pushing a few hairs back into place and running her fingernail along the edge of her bottom lip, making sure there wasn’t even a trace of lipstick anywhere but on her lips. She stood up and walked confidently out her office door, turning towards the studio, preparing herself for being in the presence of Therese with several other employees watching them. As she walked down the hall, she felt as if she were on a set of tracks, unable to veer off and unable to slow down. She had made choices during her time with Therese - engaging her in that elevator, leaving her card, kissing her, allowing her to seep into her brain so deeply that she couldn’t think of anything else, and now _hiring_ her - that had led her to this moment, about to mix two of her many separate faces that she worked diligently to isolate. Looking back objectively, she felt like she had set herself up for a crash directly into a brick wall, a crash she knew was coming, but kept praying she would somehow narrowly avoid just before reaching the end of the road. Not only had she placed herself on this track, she also allowed it to move her forward without a fight. Even now, as her heels clicked along the hardwood floor, each heel keeping itself in a straight line, traversing the same row of wooden panels in her unstoppable walk towards the studio, she felt helpless to resist being hurdled without control into whatever time and space her heart had decided on.

 

When she walked in, her eyes were drawn immediately to Therese. She was wearing an emerald green blouse tucked into a high-waisted fitted black skirt that hit just below the knee, and that pair of black heels she had worn to their meeting with Johnson at the Rose Bar. She had a thin little sweater on over her blouse, allowing the dark green fabric underneath to be visible when it caught enough sun. She looked completely different than she usually did, like some apparition from an office fantasy. Of course, the only other employee in the room who was remotely as dressed up was Jasmine, as always. Therese was standing, holding some papers that looked like they had been crumpled and then reopened, and Cory was sitting on Therese’s desk, watching her talk softly. April had headphones on, sitting at her desk with her purple glasses nearly falling off her face. And Jasmine was on her computer, carefully sipping something hot out of a huge white mug. There were five others in the room, looking like pieces of laundry that had been flung across the room haphazardly in various states of shabbiness and cleanliness. They all looked like kids - and really, they were - but Therese’s uncharacteristically professional outfit did help mitigate that a bit. Carol thought about how good that pencil skirt would feel against her hands and how the already form-fitting fabric would tighten around Therese’s behind if she could come up behind her and bend her just the slightest bit over that desk. As she caught herself in the thought, she was immediately discouraged, already aware of how difficult this was going to be. However, starting next week, all four of them would be spending the majority of their time in Johnson’s office. Thank god.

 

Jasmine was the first to notice Carol standing in the doorway.

 

“Hi Carol!” she smiled and stood up, walking out into one of the pockets of empty space between the desks in the room and then standing nervously, obviously not having planned where she was actually going. God, she was a suck-up. But fun to look at, that’s for sure. Despite that, and despite Jasmine’s clear attraction to her, work was the one place where Carol had never allowed her desires to make decisions for her. The work was too important to her, and not even this perfectly-proportioned, all-too-willing Barbie doll could tempt her, although she did think back with some embarrassment about having thought several times about fucking this girl while stuffing her mouth with something to keep her cloying, high-pitched voice from escaping it. At this moment, the thought made her stomach turn, and she felt that familiar feeling of dread creeping up her chest, the feeling she had just had last weekend when she was watching Tara standing in front of the elevator. She wondered how long it would take, if ever, for that feeling to work its way out of her. Or, really, for her to push it out and be cleansed of it. Was her insatiable desire innate, or was there some way for her to live without a constant, steady stream of prey? She hadn’t had a proper _meal_ since she last slept with Tara, and she could feel her body’s hunger growing more and more insistent.

 

The rest of them looked up and waited. They knew that if Carol came into the studio, there was a reason, and they all better shut up.

 

“Hello everyone.” Carol’s face didn’t look angry, but she wasn’t smiling either. She looked over at Therese quickly. Therese was looking at her blankly, as if she barely knew her. It startled Carol for a minute; as if with this change in wardrobe and environment Therese had become someone else. She hated it. She wanted Therese to be the same, dress the same, make Carol feel the same. Carol had made changes recently - ones she felt good about. And though she had made those changes herself, without being told, she knew the seed of that change was Therese. She may be barreling down that train track at full speed, but there was something pulling her in that direction. She had grown used to imagining Therese at the end of it, the beacon she could look for when she started to get lost again. In Carol’s mind she was constant, a beautiful musical note that caressed her ears without interruption, holding steady in the background, something she could always collapse into in her mind when the usual cloud of loneliness and pain settled its thick smoke around her. But here Therese was, looking like a woman, not a girl, and facing Carol with more strength and composure than she could have imagined. _Was she still hers?_ Her face, like so many times before, was calm, and Carol couldn’t see through it. Carol prayed that she was looking at Therese the same way. Carol looked back to the rest of the group. “Print deadlines are this afternoon so I want everything on Debbie’s desk by 4.” She turned to leave, then stopped herself as she was already halfway out the door. She turned her head just slightly back towards them, still not far enough to see any of them. “Thanks.”

 

April looked over at Cory.

 

“Did she just say ‘thanks’?!”

 

* * *

 

Carol walked into the meeting and sat at the end of the table, facing the projector. Harge was next to her, clicking on his laptop, preparing to put up his summary of quarterlies, which he had shared with his father when he had last visited and was now sharing with the rest of the team. Carol, of course, had been the first to see them; she and Harge would usually spend an hour or so looking through them before anyone else did. She realized that she would have to rethink all of their one-on-one meetings where they sipped coffee and talked about work interspersed with the other meaningless but somewhat personal matters of their daily lives that they had become so used to sharing. It was one of the ways in which she kept them tied together, and as long as their work was twisted and knotted around with the threads of their past and their friendship, she was keeping him hostage. As she stared up at the screen, not listening to a word he said, she thought about the fact that Therese was here, not 50 yards away in the studio, having no idea that Carol was sitting a foot away from the owner of that shaving cream in her apartment. And Harge was here, having no idea of the potential disaster Carol had brought into their tenuous work situation. If she wanted to figure out how to make this work, she had to start working on her and Harge’s knot with more gusto. Adding another thread would make the task damn near impossible.

 

* * *

 

Carol was back in her office by 3:30, relieved to have a moment alone. She felt completely out of control. The realization of how complicated everything had become so quickly was only compounding in her brain as she imagined the possible scenarios that could develop. She had to get a grip and put together some sort of plan to ease this transfer of knowledge and circumstance to avoid what could end in cataclysmic chaos. As if immediately ignoring this thought, or perhaps in some twisted way trying to begin figuring it out, she picked up her phone and started texting.

 

C: Can you come to my office? It’s along the back wall. It has my name on the door. You can’t miss it.

 

She clicked her phone screen off and almost threw it across her desk. It landed with a dull but forceful bang on the desk. Why was she doing this? She had nothing to say to Therese. After ten minutes there was still no response, and Carol was starting to wonder whether Therese had seen it and had the good sense not to put herself in a situation where she would be alone with Carol. At least then one of them would. It was unlike her to do something rash or unplanned, especially at work. She felt insecure, like Therese had played her by being so emotionless when she saw her in the studio. She felt transparent, vulnerable, and like she was somehow losing this game to Therese. _What game?_ What the hell was she doing? She had to stop this, stop Therese from coming back here. She could go to the studio now, pretend to have something to say about work… but she had started to feel foolish, and she didn’t want to face a room full of her employees when she wasn’t protected by her usual armor. Carol was twisting a strand of hair repeatedly, staring at the black phone screen when there was a gentle knock.

 

“Come in.” She stood.

 

Therese had only opened the door a crack when she had already locked eyes with Carol. She looked just as calm as before. She got half way in the glass door, and waited. Carol almost whispered.

 

“Close the door.”

 

Therese stepped forward, letting go, and the door moved silently through the air until it met its stationary glass partner, the pane of frosted glass that began at the door and extended all the way to the wall of bookshelves behind Carol’s desk. Therese just stood, looking at her. Carol waited until finally, _finally,_ there was movement in Therese’s face. She moved one side of her mouth up just the most minute amount, the beginning of a smile. Carol still had no idea what her next move would be. She had talked to Therese many times, why was she suddenly so stunned and seemingly mute? She forced herself to speak.

 

“How is it going in there?”

 

“Great. Learning a lot already. Cory and April have been helping me understand how they usually handle the first steps of a campaign. Brainstorming and all that.” She still stood, but took a few steps toward Carol’s desk.

 

Carol stood up from her chair and walked around the desk, past Therese, and grabbed a notebook off the table on the other side of the door. It was an address book; she had absolutely no reason to go pick it up other than to have something to do with her body. She fingered its edges and turned back towards Therese.

 

“Good.” Therese looked back at her, unfazed, as usual. Only now, as they stood and stared longer and longer, she started to see Therese’s chest rising and falling more dramatically and noticed her hands clasped together in front of her, holding one another tightly. The room, the space between them, even the spaces inside Carol’s body felt full, so thick and full of tension that they couldn’t possibly fit one more atom.

 

She threw the address book back on the table and made it to Therese in two long, fast strides. She lifted her right hand to Therese’s cheek to stabilize it as she brought her lips just in front of Therese’s to stop for an instant before slamming them into Therese’s with force. Without breaking contact, she quickly pulled the light cardigan off Therese’s arms and let it fall to the floor. She moved her left arm to encircle Therese’s waist, pulling her so vigorously into her that Therese seemed to lose her balance, and Carol caught her, pushed the weight of her body back onto Therese to keep her standing. Carol was assaulting her mouth, and moved her right hand from Therese’s face, sliding it down along her jaw, down her neck, and brought it to rest on her breast, massaging it lightly over the silky green fabric. Just the feel of Therese under her hand lit a fire inside her. She needed her now - and she could have her, right here on her desk if she so desired. She started to back them up towards the desk and they both stumbled trying to move backwards in their heels. When Carol finally had Therese against the side of her desk, pens and folders falling to the floor noisily, she took her mouth off Therese just far enough to look into her eyes. Therese looked overwhelmed, flushed, and ravenous. Carol had seen all she needed to. She grabbed Therese’s waist firmly and spun her around to face the desk, Carol behind her, then leaned forward to push her face into Therese’s hair. Moving her mouth to Therese’s neck, just behind her ear, she slid her hand into Therese’s hair and grabbed a fistful. She kept pushing herself against her until Therese had no choice but to stabilize herself with her hands on the desk. Carol could hear Therese panting already, and couldn’t stop herself. With Therese’s hands still supporting her on the desk, Carol pulled Therese backwards by the hips until her ass was making full contact with Carol’s front and started moving against her. One hand still held her brown hair, pulling lightly, while the other held onto the front of Therese’s right hip to pull her in, to make sure she could make full contact with her every time she thrust them both forward. Carol could already feel herself getting wet, completely lost in this moment and completely sure Therese was too. As she was about to move her right hand down in front of Therese to slide it down into her skirt, she felt Therese push back on her. She reluctantly gave Therese space to turn around, and when she did, she put both her hands on Carol’s face, cradling her head, and looked into her eyes. She moved forward slowly and pressed her lips against Carol’s gently, giving her bottom lip a slow, gentle lick. Carol felt paralyzed, unable to make another move. Therese’s change of pace allowed her to see other things drift into her line of sight - the bookshelf, her laptop. As the many pieces of the tapestry of her office came into focus, she felt herself lifting out of a fog of her own making. A shadow passed along the side of the room; someone wearing dark clothes walking by the frosted glass outside her office. This was insane. It had to stop. Therese was still an inch from her face, brushing hair out of Carol’s eyes, looking at her with sincerity. Carol again allowed herself to be seen, allowed Therese to strip her eyes and mind naked and take her in. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her forehead against Therese’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol's insecurity is just too delicious. I'm over here rubbing my hands together and cackling.


	29. See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far. I wasn't even planning on writing Therese's point of view of the office tryst, but I think this ended up being the most important chapter in the story so far. I hope you'll know why by the end.
> 
> (Thanks to she_blinks for the idea of doing Therese's POV.)
> 
> I know I *always* say this, but you really do need to be sure you've read the previous chapter (28) in order to appreciate this one. It's super important this time.

Thursday morning was rainy and raw. Therese woke up with both cats laying on top of her, clearly agitated that she dared to move when they were so settled and warm against her body. Melody had become more comfortable with Therese, but she still ran away at the slightest change of position or moderately loud noise. Therese found herself trying to accommodate her, taking great pride in being able to keep her from being spooked. Her poor one-eyed friend had always been available, always adored her, yet she was always taking it for granted and courting Melody, who strutted around arrogantly like an irresistible challenge.

 

Therese opened the guest room closet and looked at her limited selection of clothes, mostly black and gray sweaters, t-shirts, and several pairs of skinny jeans and black pants. She had no idea what she was going to start wearing for work; all of her clothes now seemed far too casual and worn out. One of the few colorful pieces she had she had already worn in front of Carol - that green cowl-neck sweater. She desperately needed to find something new, something that would give her a necessary confidence boost. It was too late for that now, though, because she wanted to be at the office at 8:30. April had insisted that it didn’t really matter all that much when she came in, but Therese wasn’t about to stroll in at 11am on her first day. Carol wasn’t even going to be there today, but she still felt as if just being in that office, walking over the floors that Carol’s beautiful feet had walked, breathing the air that Carol’s exquisite lips had drawn into her mouth, and touching surfaces that Carol’s elegant hands had stroked was going to be enough to set all her nerve endings ablaze.

 

She still stood in front of the closet, staring fixedly at a piece of red lint on one of her gray sweaters and started thinking about the night before and the blatantly suggestive text she had sent Carol. God, how she wished she were actually laying under Carol, feeling her body pressed against hers, feeling those hands on her, grabbing her, even pushing her - anything. She realized with some surprise that she actually _wanted_ Carol to just take her and do what she wanted with her. She couldn’t imagine being able to control herself or her physical reaction no matter how ‘in her head’ she usually was during sex. By the way every part of her body seemed to throb with blood when she thought of anything even remotely sexual in relation to Carol, she had no doubt she wouldn’t have any problem getting out of her head and letting her brain be melted by the liquid desire this woman inspired in her.

 

* * *

 

When she got to the office, she smiled at the receptionist - who simply gave her a quick “Good morning,” then went back to whatever she had been doing - then wandered aimlessly past the long wall of dark glass that separated the lobby from the office area. Once she stepped into the open space, she was overwhelmed by the commotion. There had to be sixty people, almost all of them interacting with one another, creating a low but persistent din that reminded Therese of having a pesky ringing in her ears. How did they work like this, their desks separated only by glass panes only a few inches high? They were always looking, always being watched, their work always exposed to someone else’s possibly judgmental and irrational thoughts. It made her insides feel like pages curling in, shrinking away from the edges of this open book she was looking at. There was no privacy. Even standing here looking out at them made her feel like she was taking part in some voyeuristic social experiment.

 

Her intense inward cringe was interrupted by a moving block of turquoise calling her name.

 

“Therese!” It was Jasmine. She looked like a human piece of candy, all bright colors and sweetness oozing out of her. “The studio’s back here. I’d introduce you to some of the people out here, but you probably care more about getting to where you’re actually going to work. Plus, these are all the non-creative people. Not exactly thrilling stuff.” She winked at Therese. It was the first time Therese had heard her say something that wasn’t obnoxiously genuine and sweet, and it reduced her annoyance at this girl just the tiniest bit. She felt her panic at the openness of the space she had just seen dissipate a little as they walked through the heavy glass door into the studio. It was still quite open, light streaming in from the four tall windows that extended from floor to ceiling along the back wall, but it was enclosed. There were about twelve desks, which was eleven more than she was comfortable with, but comparatively, it was heavenly.

 

Jasmine walked around pointing things out, opening all the cabinets to show Therese where all the different kinds of paper, writing implements, stencils, and countless other instruments of their work were located, oblivious to the fact that no one could ever breeze through a tour like this and have the faintest idea where to find a single charcoal pencil the first time they actually needed it. Finally, Jasmine turned to Therese and clasped her hands together in front of her chest.

 

“So, want to get some coffee? The rest of these bums won’t be in until after 10.”

 

They wound their way back through the teeming open floor, insects all buzzing around, and Jasmine started confidently manipulating a machine that Therese didn’t even recognize as a coffee maker at first. She still hadn’t figured out Noelle and Dylan’s, either, and she had dug an old Mr. Coffee out of their storage closet and had been making hers in that cracked glass carafe. Jasmine looked over at her while her hands still manipulated the machine deftly, even with her eyes elsewhere.

 

“How do you like it?” Her face was dead serious, her sweet little smile seemed to have in a split second scurried off into the forest of unicorns it undoubtedly came from. It took Therese a moment to understand and answer.

 

“Just milk.”

 

Jasmine finally smiled again and pulled the milk out of the fridge. As she started making her own coffee, Therese couldn’t help but steal glances at her. She felt as if crossing the threshold of this kitchen had pushed them into another dimension, or it had stirred up some invisible wind vortex that had blown the suffocating cloud of sweetness right off Jasmine’s body. She put her own coffee in a laughably large white mug, putting nothing in it. Therese was surprised; black coffee did not fit in at all with her idea of Jasmine.

 

“Come on, let’s go back to the studio.”

 

* * *

 

After twenty minutes of talking about the other designers, how they typically worked together, and how often and in what capacity they were forced to work with the scurrying insects outside the door, Jasmine changed the topic completely.

 

“You still haven’t spent much time with Carol yet, have you?” She showed no hint of her intentions on her face.

 

“Not a lot, no.” Therese felt it was better to say as little as possible.

 

“Hm. I think you’ll enjoy her. She’s… something else.” Jasmine raised her eyebrows and looked at Therese as if trying to communicate something without words. Therese smiled back. Jasmine was running her finger along the rim of her mug, seemingly lost in her circling, when she looked back up at Therese. She was silent for a moment, as if sizing up Therese to see if she should say whatever it was that Therese could tell was obviously on the tip of her tongue.

 

“I’ve never seen a woman like that. Plus, she just… _rules_ this place. It’s remarkable.” She watched Therese closely, and Therese stared right back, knowing exactly what was going on but not wanting to play into it. On the other hand, if she went just a few steps down this path with Jasmine, she would probably glean some new insights into who Carol was at work.

 

“I know.” Therese looked at her with a knowing smile. Jasmine caught it and knew she was safe to continue.

 

“What’s crazy is that I’m pretty sure she’s actually into women, but her husband is right here in the office, always near her, touching her, whispering in her ear. She looks like she barely registers it and he looks like a puppy dog chasing her around. It’s bizarre. I can’t imagine they actually go home together every night. ”

 

Therese felt a dull heat working it way across her chest, surrounding her heart and encouraging it to beat a little faster, fueling a subtle but increasingly hot anger to begin flowing around her body. She knew Carol’s husband worked with her, but she had somehow disconnected that knowledge with the idea that this man would actually be here. And the fact that he was touching Carol, all over her, made Therese feel dirty, like she had looked in and seen something sordid that she wished she had never witnessed - and this was only a description of it.

 

“Why do you think she’s into women?” Therese ventured, trying to be casual.

 

“I just know. And I’ve seen her looking at me. She knows I’d give it to her any time she wanted it.” Jasmine smirked at Therese, who felt like that anger in her veins might just burst out of her and, with any luck, engulf this girl in flames. She wanted to watch her perfect candy-colored dress burn to ashes.

 

* * *

 

Therese dragged herself out shopping after work, desperate to find something new she could wear to the office tomorrow when Carol was there. At least, she _thought_ Carol would be there. She had assured Therese that she would find a way to see her. She only ended up with a few things, and she wore all of them except a new dark purple sweater to the office the next day. She was satisfied with her reflection in the mirror, loving how powerful she felt, but also feeling a sense of being a little girl dressing up in her mother’s clothes. Memories of her mother’s dresses that hung off her boyish eight-year-old frame and high heels that were so big she tripped constantly, her small feet unable to gather the tiniest bit of grace drifted through her head. But she wasn’t that little girl, she had beautiful curves that filled out these clothes, and her feet, while not exactly fit for ballet, had become much more confident. Her reflection showed her someone she had been dying to see for quite a while, someone she had imagined many times but previously had been unable to conjure into real life.

 

* * *

 

Friday morning went by quicker than Therese realized, and by lunch time she was already engrossed in sorting through ideas with Cory. He seemed to have an endless stream of completely random concepts, which he would ferociously draw on a piece of notebook paper, then tear out and crumple up. They finally took a break at 1 to eat sandwiches that April had brought in from the deli next to the office, but after an hour of conversation, Therese was anxious to continue rifling through Cory’s papers, marveling at the ideas that he deemed unfit for further consideration.

 

The door opened and everyone turned. Carol came walking in quickly, her face as expressive as a slate of stone. When Therese saw Carol’s eye begin to move toward her, she turned back to Cory and kept talking quietly. She realized that the rest of the room had become dead silent, however, so she shut her mouth and forced herself to look at Carol.

 

“Hi Carol!” Therese heard that syrupy sweet (and now, Therese realized, possibly completely fabricated) tone come out of Jasmine’s perfect mouth.

 

“Hello everyone.” When she looked over at Therese, Carol’s face looked more expressionless than Therese had ever seen it - including when they had that first curt conversation in the elevator. It sobered her, and her fears of appearing unprofessional by having obvious hearts practically bursting out of her eyes drained away. In fact, she felt strangely distant from Carol. She was someone else, a hard, fierce woman, but somehow also a woman who had a husband in this office who she let touch her with his hands in front of her employees. It made no sense, and Therese could feel that same anger begin to flow through her, this time directed at Carol. As Carol continued to study Therese, her face began to change quickly, as if every moment of visual feedback from Therese was pulling more and more structure out of Carol, her fine and sturdy boning coming loose and allowing her to shrink and collapse almost imperceptibly, but Therese could see it. Therese could see that Carol was desperately trying to resurrect her face, but it came off as shaky and even a bit unhinged. Her eyes looked down for a moment before she addressed the whole room.

 

“Print deadlines are this afternoon so I want everything on Debbie’s desk by 4.” Therese studied her as she turned, about to walk out without looking at Therese again. She stopped and stood still for a moment, then quietly spoke one word.

 

“Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

Therese had been leaning over one of the computers with Cory and three of the other designers watching a commercial for one of the product lines that Johnson’s company owned, trying to get a sense of what kind of advertising he had previously approved. She walked over to pick up her water and noticed that she had a text.

 

C: Can you come to my office? It’s along the back wall. It has my name on the door. You can’t miss it.

 

Therese still had her eyes on the little perfectly formed letters, casually floating in their little gray cloud on her phone screen when she turned her body toward the others.

 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She walked out and immediately started towards the back of the office. There were large offices with long, frosted glass walls bordering the hallway, and the third one down bore the name she’d been looking for, the name that had become more than words, instead like a picture, a visual prayer in her mind during the past weeks. She knocked.

 

“Come in.”

 

When she pushed the door halfway open and caught Carol’s eye, she felt her anger at Carol, which had just an hour ago been so intense, like a toxic chemical infecting every cell in its path, being cooled and dulled by the blue eyes staring at her. She could still feel it, but it had faded to a dilute warmth that at least allowed her the patience to study these eyes before ramping up again.

 

“Close the door.” Carol looked out of sorts, like she had been having a personal crisis that she had put on pause right when Therese had opened this door. Carol just kept staring at her, and Therese was completely shocked at this woman, the woman she had come to know, reemerging, crawling out of those blue eyes and throwing herself across the desk, begging Therese to collect it and nurture it, to tell that broken creature that it was all okay.

 

“How’s it going in there?” Carol asked with the tone of someone who might be asking how much time they have left after being diagnosed with cancer. Therese just wanted to escape some of this intolerable tension. She responded in the most professional, boring way she could manage.

 

“Great. Learning a lot already. Cory and April have been helping me understand how they usually handle the first steps of a campaign. Brainstorming and all that.” She decided not to mention Jasmine; she didn’t want to let her rage take over and force her to fall apart in front of Carol’s eyes. She took a few steps forward, almost reveling in how Carol reclined slightly, as if she were afraid of her.

 

Carol seemed unable to handle Therese’s gaze and jumped up, walking past Therese without looking at her. She picked up the first thing she saw, running her fingers along the spine and then the pages of the notebook.

 

“Good.”

 

Carol was looking at her with the same fear that had started to reveal itself under Therese's gaze in the studio. That part of Carol that drew Therese into her was begging, groveling at Therese’s feet in repentance at how she had behaved - not just now, but so many times, in ways Therese didn't even herself understand - on its knees praying for redemption. Therese felt all that anger swimming faster again, but this time carrying a plethora of other emotions with it. It was a complicated swirling mass, and Therese suddenly felt as if she couldn’t tell up from down. She was angry at Carol’s actions, angry at Jasmine’s description of the ways Carol hid herself at work, and deeply saddened by the way Carol cowered in front of her - but she somehow wanted to draw it even further inside herself, engulf it and contain it. She could feel her body tensing, trying to sort it all out and figure out what tied all these feelings together, what was driving this indomitable hurricane of passionate responses.

 

Carol’s eyes released their tension immediately, and as if a switch had flipped, she threw down the book and stalked toward Therese like a bird of prey about to attack. When her lips met Therese’s, they began their begging even more insistently, this time trying to use physical contact to communicate that need. Therese accepted it, kissed her back, gladly accepted Carol’s tongue into her mouth. Carol ripped Therese’s sweater off, then grabbed her by the waist, handling her so roughly that Therese felt unstable, about to be toppled over by this violent manifestation of the demand Carol asked of her. When Carol’s hand made its way to her breast, the emotions swirling tempestuously all over her body began to flood hurriedly downwards, settling in a pool of inescapable desire. When Carol pulled her head back to look into Therese’s eyes, Therese saw an unfathomable mixture of lust and vulnerability in her eyes. She understood that Carol was feeling something so powerful that it had pushed her into this insane tizzy, the only way she knew how to cope. When Carol grabbed her hips and turned her towards the desk, starting to push her body into Therese’s back, the pressure of the outward curve of her breasts easily felt through Therese’s delicate shirt, she lost all ability to control her thoughts. She felt those long, delicate fingers tangle in her hair, pulling it ever so slightly back, sending pure shots of electricity from the roots of her hair to the most intimate depths of her body. Therese was helpless to stop it, letting Carol’s hands pull her hips back forcefully to grind her against her, both of them having lost any sense of reality. Her clit was about to burst from the impossible pressure of blood rushing to it, and it wasn’t even in contact with anything. She desperately wished she could find something, have the same stimulation Carol had with her firm grinding. The thought of Carol’s arousal, imagining how close she must be to falling apart if even Therese, with no friction whatsoever, was about to drown in whatever lay below that fast-approaching cliff, made her feel like everything in her was about to start seeping out lasciviously. It wasn’t enough now, Therese wanted her, wanted Carol to fill her with all those requests and desires and pleas she had shown to Therese; Therese wanted to absorb them, have Carol inside her and infect her with her most delicate, terrified parts. At this thought, her pulsing body somehow allowed two of her brain cells to reanimate and communicate, and Therese realized that she wanted to hold and nurture the raw and exposed weakness in this woman, no matter how complicated. Her brain found a way to make the connection with her heart, reaching down and curling itself around that tendril she had so long worried was absent, and she felt her realization strike her like a pleasurable assault to every cell in her body.

 

The revelation brought her back into reality, and she pushed Carol off her, turning to see what was in Carol’s eyes. Only an inch from her face, she could see directly through Carol’s eyes, glazed in lust but opening like a blooming flower for Therese, letting her see what lay far below their surface but with the same intensity as what burned inside Therese. She knew that Carol knew what she saw, and Carol gave in to her, giving up her attempt to push it down, push Therese away, instead leaning in closer to press her forehead to hers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh... yeah... so what do we think?


	30. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst no one asked for but that you all have to deal with.

“I’m sorry.” Carol whispered, her eyes closed, still leaning against Therese. Therese said nothing, instead moving her hands from Carol’s face to embrace her. They stood that way, silent, until Carol leaned back. She seemed to have regained some of her composure despite the dichotomous poles of disconnectedness and unfettered union she had just reverberated between countless times in the span of three minutes. She was bouncing around them, the tension that had held the continuum in a straight line had been broken by her outburst, leaving her flailing in disorganized space. As Therese looked into her eyes again, Carol had the same feeling of being stripped naked that this girl had managed to evoke more than once. Carol felt herself falling, wanting to put all of it in front of Therese. The girls, Harge, her relentless struggle to rebuild the wall that protected her, barely keeping up with the pieces that crumbled as she worked.

 

But how could she tell her all this without losing the silent but absolute acceptance in Therese’s eyes? It was something she had tried to forget ever having seen when she had experienced it before. She could remember trying to sear that look out of her memory when Holly was separated from her with the fire of denial and self-hate she had ignited in herself. As sick and counterproductive as it was, she could remember trying to hold onto the look of disdain on her mother’s face when she had seen Carol doing the one thing she had longed for her entire life - loving someone without expectation. Her parents had never given her that, and the young, starving child in her thought that she may still be able to coax it out of them if only she was who they wanted her to be. She let Holly fall away - or rather, pushed her away, pushed her off the ship they had only just begun to sail on, into the promised land of their shared future.

 

And here she was, faced with that promise again, but she was no longer that starved child who sought the acceptance of her parents, nor was she the hopeful 22-year-old who kissed Holly in the hallway of her parents’ house. She was a grown woman who had committed many crimes of passion and emotional abuse in an attempt to mend her own brokenness. The countless young, hopeful, still unmarred eyes she had looked into while simultaneously trying to fuck that hope right out of them. She could channel her aggression, soothe her repressed desire, and maybe even relieve these girls of the expectation that love wouldn’t beat them down to remnants of their former selves. Maybe this next sin would finally absolve Carol herself of the burden of feeling that she even deserved unconditional love.

 

Carol kissed Therese gently, running her hands along her arms, then looking at Therese with purpose.

 

“This is who I am.”

 

Therese’s face remained placid.

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

* * *

 

Therese walked out of the office slowly, looking both ways down the hall before exiting. Luckily, there were only four offices in this hallway, which was shielded from the open working floor and its countless assessing eyes by an opaque wall. She pulled the door closed as silently as possible. As soon as she had stepped out, she heard two doors opening, one after the other as if the second depended on the first to be able to function. She turned to see Carol in her doorway, holding the thin cardigan she had ripped off Therese a few minutes earlier. But when she looked at Carol’s face, Carol wasn’t looking at her. She was staring straight past Therese. When Therese herself turned, she saw him, the tall, dark-haired man from the car who Carol had kissed after the tenants meeting. The man who must habitually shave at Carol’s. The man who owned the hands who touched Carol so that everyone in this office could see. She couldn’t for the life of her have guessed what this man saw in Therese’s face when he looked at her for an instant before returning his eyes to Carol. Therese looked back over her shoulder at Carol, who was completely still, the cardigan hanging limply from her hand, her eyes unreadable. Therese felt as if she were just an inanimate object that happened to be witnessing this impossibly terrifying locking of eyes, partially blocking its transmission. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do. She was incapable of walking back towards Carol to get the sweater, but her feet allowed her to move forward, her body tensing as she passed him. Harge. His name was there on the door, the name following it painfully matching Carol’s. It suggested a rope tying them together that appeared to her as strong as the stare between them, and Therese couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

 

* * *

 

Harge wouldn’t take his eyes off her. After what felt like a lifetime of excruciating silence, Harge gave the smallest nod of his head towards Carol and went back into his office, closing the door quietly. Carol wanted nothing more than to retreat to her office, pull out the scotch she kept for clients - which she didn’t even like the taste of - and have a silent drink while she focused all her energy on hating herself. Instead, she was sucked like a magnet towards Harge’s door. She didn’t knock.

 

She found him back at his computer, staring at the screen as if nothing had happened. When he looked at her, his face could only be described as shocked. Much to her surprise, anger and sadness were nowhere to be found.

 

“What?” Carol asked it forcefully, as if she had no earthly idea why Harge might be the slightest bit upset with her.

 

 _“What?”_ Harge imitated her word with incredulity, unable to believe she was daring to pretend not to know.

 

“You have no right to judge me.” Carol’s uncomfortable shifting of her feet betrayed her face, which was trying to feign indignance.

 

“This is our business, Carol. This is what we’ve built. This just exceeds my worst expectations. Even from you.” His face was starting to shift from shock to disgust.

 

“That’s not fair.” Carol wasn’t sure what to say, but that’s what came out, and she knew it wasn’t because she felt Harge’s words were unfair. Instead, she was acknowledging to herself that none of this was fair - what she had just done to Therese, the position she had just put Harge in - and now this sinking feeling in her that wanted to bring her all the way down.

 

“So you’re telling me that you weren’t just in your office fucking that girl?” He was raising his voice.

 

Carol had nothing to say. She was wracking her brain for a way to justify herself, to come up with a satisfactory lie, but she couldn’t. There was nothing inside her except regret. And the thought that her feelings for Therese had finally brought her to a breaking point, had finally caused that inevitable crash she thought she could avoid. She ignored every instinct to try to smooth things over, instead just looking at Harge and finally saying what she knew had been torturing both of them.

 

“I don’t think this works anymore. We can’t run this business together.”

 

* * *

 

Therese spent the last hour of the workday in a haze, bothered by every word anyone spoke to her. She wanted to get out, go home, cocoon herself in bed and try to forget. But another part of her wanted to run back to Carol’s office and ask her everything she felt she deserved to know. All of this conflicting information, all of these Carols that she saw, always changing as if on a random rotation, always threatening to shift on her at any moment. She couldn’t keep up with it, and she was starting to feel as if she were in above her head. The problem - the nagging, unavoidable, absolutely inarguable problem - was that she had found her way to the center of that nightmare of a carousel, had seen its inner machinations, and found a way to love them.

 

She hadn’t seen or heard from Carol when 5pm rolled around, and as she walked out of the studio, she looked down towards the back hallway, but continued on to the door. The outside air felt foreign; she felt as if she had forgotten there was a whole world full of billions of people outside that office. She started walking towards the subway, but at the last minute decided to keep walking. As much as she had wanted to an hour ago, she couldn’t go home yet. It would be like admitting that this had all really happened, and that she now had to take off these clothes, wash her makeup off, and face the next meaningless task of her day.

 

She finally walked into the apartment building around 9 after having stopped more than one place to sit and people-watch, mindlessly flipping through newspapers she wasn’t really reading or drinking coffee she wasn’t really tasting, trying to forget all the moments of intense pleasure mixed with unbearable pain she had endured today. She stepped onto the elevator just a moment before the doors closed, and there was a dark-haired, middle-aged man already in the elevator. She turned to the button panel and saw that he had pressed 24. She hesitated for a moment. _Press 17._ She looked at the neat black numbers on the button just to the left of the one that was already lit up. _23\. 23. 23._ She pressed 17 and moved away from the panel. She couldn’t do it again, be the one to throw herself in front of Carol’s speeding train that left miles of reckless destruction in its wake.

 

At 10:30, Therese decided to try to sleep. It was Friday night; she could find friends to hang out with, but as usual she had continued to turn down any and all invitations that came her way. She thought with dread about tomorrow, knowing she and Carol had a date planned, but having no idea what would come of it. Would Carol say something to her, or was she just supposed to assume it was off? As much as she wanted to reach out and blatantly ask Carol, she decided she would wait for the beautiful elusive creature to emerge from its lair. She knew, without a doubt, that Carol would come to her eventually.

 

* * *

 

Carol didn’t pour her first drink until quarter to 11. She had stayed in her office until 7, not daring to emerge until after she heard Harge’s office door close. When the automatic lights flicked off in the hallway, she knew almost everyone had left. She now felt guilty, and it was no longer because of Therese, it was because of her interaction with Harge. What shocked and disappointed her, however, was that she didn’t feel guilty about what she _said_ to Harge, nor for making his eyes change as they did when she uttered that statement they had both known to be true but had been dodging like they had a chance to evade it indefinitely. She felt guilty about the immense relief she felt as soon as she said those words. That inarguable truth had made its way out, finally, and they both let it hang, staying silent. She could tell by the look on Harge’s face that he wouldn’t try to argue the statement or even just brush it off as Carol getting caught up in this tumultuous moment. He kept eye contact, then finally began what could at first be misconstrued as a minute twitch of his head, but instead grew torturously slowly into the smallest but surest nod.

 

Carol hoped this drink would file down the sharp points of guilt just the slightest bit, but after her first sip, she resented it. She knew it wouldn’t dull anything enough to make it bearable, and she hated it for even suggesting it may be able to. She stood and grabbed her keys. When she pressed 17, she felt herself bolstering that tiny voice inside her that pushed her to get on that elevator. It was the right thing to do, and finally Carol listened.

 

She knocked on the door and Therese took a few moments to answer. When she saw Carol, she didn’t look the least bit surprised, and she didn’t speak. Carol finally worked up the courage to say them, the words that she knew Therese needed to hear in order to be comfortable asking for what she deserved to know.

 

“Ask me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can. Carol. Please. Act. Like. A. Grown. Up.
> 
> This might be the start of it.


	31. Pour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angsty angst. This chapter flips back and forth between Therese's and Carol's point of view fairly quickly to try to get a more 360 degree view of the conversation in real time (versus two separate chapters).

Therese looked at her, not moving. She was suddenly very aware of her body, the feel of the heavy wooden door’s edge pressing into her palm, the cold smoothness of the floor pressing back up against her bare feet, the slightest difference in temperature that only becomes apparent when you open a closed door to allow yourself to feel what exists on the other side. She adjusted her hypersensitive feet and hands to a position that allowed her to move out of the way and hold the door open. Carol came in, still in her work clothes. The same clothes that had been rubbing all over her body a few hours ago. The same clothes that looked like an ominous shadow as they appeared behind the thin white cardigan that had hung in front of them delicately as she looked at Harge in that hallway of horrors. As if in some attempt at malicious deja vu, Carol stood here with the cardigan still dangling from that same hand. She extended her hand to Therese, offering the cardigan like a gruesome gift, looking like she knew how much Therese wanted to ignore it, let it fall to the ground, and undo its entire existence. It had wreaked havoc far more substantial than its thin, open-weave suggested. A whisper of a sweater that set off a deafening explosion.

 

Therese took it by two fingers and walked over to the smaller couch and flung it away from her. She turned to look back at Carol, who was still just inside the kitchen, barely peeking out of the entryway hallway. She rested her hands on the front of her thighs, her straight arms revealing the front of her wrinkled maroon skirt. Her lipstick, which was more plum-hued than her usual blood red, was faded, and her eyes looked tired. Therese looked away and sat on the couch. She heard the dull click of Carol’s heels approaching, each click like a clock tick that got louder and louder as it approached some perilous hour. Carol hesitated and stood in front of Therese like a terrified sacrifice in front of its executioner. Therese felt as if Carol was silently asking her where she should go, what she should do next. Therese did nothing. Carol must have realized she was on her own and sat on the smaller couch perpendicular to the longer one Therese was on. She sat carefully on its edge, the white sweater splayed out beside her like evidence at a crime scene.

 

Carol looked at her steadily, her face neither scared nor confident. She was conveying something else entirely, as if trying to read Therese and what she would ask - and what she even knew enough about to ask. Therese finally spoke.

 

“Are you still together?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Harge.” Therese was annoyed that Carol even asked. Of course she knew who.

 

“I told you, we’re divorced. It’s over.”

 

“It doesn’t look over.”

 

Carol looked a bit surprised at Therese’s statement and didn’t speak for a moment. Therese was impatient.

 

“Do you love him?” Carol’s look of surprise changed into something softer.

 

“Yes.” She waited for a moment, watching Therese’s face. “I’ll always love him. He’s my best friend. But I’ve never loved him the way he loves me, and I’ll never be able to. Which is why we can’t work together anymore.”

 

Therese tried not to let her face react. She wanted to jump in with another question, but she had a feeling Carol would keep talking unprompted if she just waited.

 

“I don’t know how it’s going to work, whether one of us will leave or we’ll somehow work from different locations or… that won’t work either, will it?” She was clearly asking herself, not Therese. “I just… I need more time to figure it out. And your job is safe. If it comes down to it, I’ll do whatever I have to to be sure this company doesn’t collapse to the ground because of Harge and I’s… situation.”

 

It was the first time she had heard Carol say his name, and it pierced her like a hot needle. It was now real. Despite the agonizing moment earlier when she had been trapped on the tensest thread of their labyrinthe web, she still hadn't made the connection all the way from Carol to Harge, but his name coming off her lips seemed to make that final connection, a hideous strand that she wished she could cut. But even though she now saw the entire cracked, segmented, incredibly delicate strand between them, she didn’t understand how it had come to be connected in the first place.

 

“Why did you marry him?”

 

* * *

 

How could she possibly answer that question in words? There were so many reasons, some of which she would be able to explain, but others that were so deeply woven into her past and into the darkest recesses inside her that she wasn’t sure she could drag them out. Those reasons - the ones that she didn’t even allow to surface in her own brain, nevermind speak aloud - those were the ones that truly drove her to do these outwardly nonsensical actions. She would start with what she could easily put into words.

 

“He… knew me. And he was the only one who did, and the only one who still does.” She looked up at Therese, praying to see some understanding in her eyes. Instead she saw what looked like the beginnings of anger.

 

“Is that really what you believe?” She looked at Carol, and Carol knew Therese wouldn’t say anything else until she answered.

 

“I don’t know.” She looked down at her hands.

 

“And Tara?” Therese’s words were loud and curt, and startled her.

 

“She’s no one. Nothing. Means nothing, like I told you before. A mistake.” She looked up at Therese to see her looking at her critically, but giving no clear indication of what she was feeling. Carol could feel herself recoiling, her heart drawing itself in as close as it could to the center of her, trying to avoid what Therese quite possibly could ask next. She couldn’t tell her. There were too many of them, and each one had knocked another chip off of whatever truly good and strong part of her that still remained. So many eyes, so many young hearts, so many young bodies that she had desperately, violently tried to fill and empty simultaneously, trying to take some of what she was missing by stealing it from someone else.

 

“What am I supposed to do now?”

 

The question surprised Carol. It was insane, almost comical that Therese would ask her that when she herself was so impossibly confused that not only could she not pick a path forward, she couldn’t even see them. There were open spaces, many of them, that she could sense by touch and perception of space - but the paths were clouded, enveloped in thick fog so that she could not see what lay even a foot beyond its fork. To tell someone else where to go would be irresponsible, risking their heart based on her own whim.

 

Therese’s expression and tone told Carol that she wasn’t asking as if she were truly confused about what she herself should do. It was almost like she knew something Carol didn’t and the question was a way to test her, like she was a child - like Carol was supposed to continue, to give her an answer Therese already knew. It felt like persecution, a demand for Carol to not only allow Therese to open her up, but for she herself to tear her own chest open for Therese. But she still knew that what could overflow from her tightened, constricted insides could be enough to push Therese away once she discovered its rancidity.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know much, do you?” Therese spoke in a harsh, almost insulting tone. Carol was quiet yet again.

 

“Do you want me?”

 

Carol looked up at her. She knew what Therese was asking, much like she had known when Therese had asked her, “Is this what you want?” on the couch that night. She wasn’t asking if she wanted to have her like she had tried to in her office.

 

“Of course I do.” She felt tears in her eyes, but they hung onto the edges, being held inside only by the water tension on their surface. She blinked so that they would fall out, desperately wanting them out of her.

 

* * *

 

Therese could see Carol falling apart externally but still trying to hang on to the rope Therese had been trying to pull her off of for so long. It wasn’t fair. She had given this woman all the things she hadn’t given anyone else, ever. All the things she thought she had never given because she didn’t have them to give, when in reality she had enough to be overflowing, pouring out of her. And it had pooled and spread, giving whatever Carol needed. But here she was, in front of her, crying, but still closed and cowering. She was starting to lose her confidence and her patience. If Carol wanted her as she said she did, she had to give her something back.

 

“Have you ever been in _love_?” Therese knew it was a question that would make Carol uncomfortable, but she no longer cared. Carol sighed and closed her eyes.

 

“Yes. Once.”

 

“When?”

 

“When I was very young.”

 

“With who?” Therese felt like she was hacking away at a piece of rock, one tiny chip at a time, trying to get to the core of whatever was driving Carol to hide so completely from the world.

 

“Holly Singer. We went to college together.”

 

“So what happened?”

 

“We moved on. We were so young.” Carol was looking hazily at something on the floor, as if speaking this girl’s name made it impossible for her to focus or face Therese.

 

“Why did you break up?” Therese was speaking faster and harsher now; she felt like she wanted to shake Carol violently to see if she could get more words to fall out at a time.

 

* * *

 

_Because I hate myself._

 

Those four words were the first and only thing to spring from Carol’s mind. She couldn’t get them to stop, they repeated over and over with no interruption so that they started to lose their meaning, running together and nullifying the purpose of their syntax. _I hate myself. Because I hate. Myself, myself, myself. I hate._ She was getting lost in the disorder of them. She continued to stare at a piece of something on the floor with blind eyes, and let the words slide down out of her tortured brain and through her faded lips.

 

“Because I hate myself.” As soon as she finished the last word, she felt everything in her body come alive, the force of the energy creating a heat that quickly spread and caused pulses, waves of burning nausea. She pleaded with herself to move her eyes towards Therese. She couldn’t yet. “I pushed her away because I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her any more than I already had. I needed to be someone else to move forward. I had to find a way to protect myself. I knew that if I didn’t, I could lose so much, so I gave her up to keep those things. But in the end I lost all of it. Her, all the things I feared losing if I allowed her to keep getting inside me, and whoever I was before. I don’t even know who that person is anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Therese felt as if she were watching someone make a confession in soliloquy. Carol still hadn’t looked at her, her eyes still glazed over as she stared at whatever had caught her eye on the floor, or whatever the thing that caught her eye was a replacement for, a place to put her physical eyes while she sent them back to whatever image she needed in front of her to describe something so dependent on remembering the past.

 

Finally, slowly, as if working against a thousand pounds of weight, Carol’s eyes met hers. The few tears that had spilled out before were gone aside from one, which had left the ghost of its path down her cheek. When she finally came out of her hazy state and registered what was in front of her, Carol began to weep, the tears now overflowing and pouring out of her, pooling and spreading, creating a place from which Therese could finally take some of what she needed.

 

She got up and walked over to Carol, kneeling in front of her. She put her hands on Carol’s face, her thumbs trying to keep up with wiping away the tears falling out of Carol’s eyes.

 

“I know who that person is. I _see_ you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Carol doing enough? Is Therese being too easy on her? Are we tired of these two and their bullshit yet?


	32. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been chewing on something quite bitter for a few chapters. So since you have all been so sweet to me lately, I wanted to give you something sweet in return.

_I’m gonna wear you down_

_I’m gonna make you see_

_I’m gonna get to you_

_You’re gonna give in to me_

-Garrett Hedlund

  


Therese stood up enough to gently push Carol’s shoulders into a more upright position. She placed the softest, slowest of kisses on Carol’s now bare, exposed lips, their faded plum coating having dissolved further, the stream of her copious tears creating uneven stripes of color. Therese tasted the salt on her lips, the irrefutable evidence of the verity of her release. She pulled her head back and ran her hand along Carol’s cheek, then slid it along her jawline.

 

“Lie down, baby.”

 

It took Therese a few moments to realize what she had just said, and she wondered if Carol was in a state to register what she had just called her. Carol only looked up at her and moved her lips into a small smile, and Therese could tell she did. It felt natural, right, and exactly what Carol needed. She wondered when the last time was that someone had called her anything other than _Carol Aird,_ as in the “Carol Aird” she had been pretending to be for so long, the “Carol Aird” she had met in the elevator _._ Therese wanted her to know that she wasn’t and would never again talk to her as that Carol Aird.

 

Carol moved her body to lay along the back of the couch, moving on her side to allow space for Therese to lay next to her. Therese slid her arm under Carol’s neck and let Carol rest her head against her chest. Their legs intertwined without conscious thought, an effortless game of Tetris to get as close to one another as possible.

 

Therese let her nose find Carols and gently brush against it. She lifted her hand and ran the back of her first two fingers along Carol’s lips, relishing the sight of Carol closing her eyes to savor the sensation.

 

“Tell me what you need.” Therese waited for Carol to open her eyes.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

* * *

 

After nearly an hour of letting their warm bodies transmit as much as touch was able to convey, Carol had finally started to move, not wanting to end their embrace but needing to go home and strip off the clothes that had become so heavy, so full of the fear, inhibition, and tears she had shed today. She knew she would always remember the patterns of the wrinkles made in this maroon skirt, the way it seemed to constrict her in the tensest moments of the day.

When Carol opened the apartment door to leave, she turned back to Therese with a smile.

 

“I’ll be here at 7 tomorrow night.” She extended her hand to push Therese’s hair out of her face and glide her hand along Therese’s jawline, just as she had on the night of their soaked, carefree run home in the rain, except this time, she pulled Therese’s head forward by her chin and let her lips press gently into Therese’s, opening her mouth the slightest bit to allow some moisture to escape, and moving them back and forth slowly to give Therese and her herself the pleasure of feeling one of their most delicate, sensitive body parts revel in the sensuous contact.

 

Carol finally pulled back, but kept her hand against Therese’s cheek.

 

“Goodnight, baby.”

 

* * *

 

At 6:50, Therese was already sitting on the couch, fidgeting anxiously with the button on her coat, which she had already put on in anticipation of Carol’s arrival. She had chosen a gray peacoat since it was one of only three coats she owned, one being not much more than a sweater and the other a winter jacket. The V-neck of the coat left bare skin visible on her chest, uncovered by her new dark purple V-neck sweater underneath, the only other new item of clothing she had bought earlier in the week. It wasn’t too cold, so she decided she would just allow the cool breeze to drift by her bare skin.

 

When she heard a knock on the door, she ran over and grabbed her purse off the counter, wanting to be completely ready to leave the moment she saw Carol’s face. When she opened the door, she unabashedly let her eyes travel up and down the figure of the beautiful creature in front of her, letting her eyes linger on the way the sash tied around the waist of Carol’s coat defined the curves of her breasts and hips. When she looked back to Carol’s face, she found an amused smile.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Absolutely.” Therese moved out into the hallway quickly and pulled the door closed, pulled out her key, and locked the deadbolt all in one smooth motion - it had become second nature, like this was _her_ apartment. She turned to Carol as they began walking toward the elevator, and Carol kept her eyes forward as she spoke.

 

“I want to take you somewhere I love. But first I want to get something warm and tingly into you.” Carol finally turned her head and winked at Therese.

 

* * *

 

Therese sipped her drink, letting its warm bite expand inside her, working its way outward from the center of her body.  She was watching Carol, who was wearing a cream-colored sweater that looked like it would feel like a cloud. Her long legs were crossed and Therese could see them easily from the other side of the high-top table. Carol was wearing a black skirt with black tights underneath and a pair of black boots that reached halfway up her calf. The smooth, stockinged expanse of leg from the top of her boot to the bottom hem of her skirt looked like a piece of heaven that Therese hadn’t even thought to imagine. She was lost in the thought of running her tongue from that calf all the way up past her knee, and up the inside of her thigh into that irresistible empty space formed where her skirt stretched over her crossed legs.

 

“But anyway, I had some things I needed to take care of this morning so I wanted to wait until I could give you my full attention.”

 

Therese realized that as she had been tracing that invisible path up Carol’s leg with her tongue, Carol had restarted the conversation and she had missed something. She looked up dumbly with a piece of bruschetta in her hand, half the tomatoes fallen onto her plate as she had been swimming inside her hungry daydream.

 

“What?”

 

“Nevermind.” Carol smiled. “Are you ready to move on to our next destination?”

 

* * *

 

They sat on the dock, Carol’s entire left side pushed closely against Therese’s right. Carol thanked whatever forces of the universe that brought them this clear, cool October night sky perfect for looking at the stars. The lights of the city dimmed their glow, but provided the perfect mixture of civilization and nature, man-made and what had predated them all. It was something she had always adored as a child when her parents brought her to the city, to this spot. She had not come back in some time, afraid of opening up a memory from childhood that would only remind her of the time before she was even aware enough to know the limits of her parents’ love and acceptance. As she sat with Therese, she felt safe, as if she could allow herself to let the enjoyment creep back into her without the fear that she would end up empty and alone.

 

“This is incredible.”

 

Carol was watching Therese’s face in profile, her head turned upward to look at the sky, her lips curved in a carefree, open-mouthed smile.

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to come have a drink?” Therese had fought with herself, her rational mind fighting with the subtle but persistent demands of her body. Eventually, her body had pushed enough of its desire-driven blood up into her brain and conquered what was fueling that rational mind. As soon as she said it, Therese glanced over quickly, knowing that Carol would know what that meant. She wanted her, desperately, but somewhere inside her she knew that Carol wouldn’t say yes. This time, she was relying on Carol to be the one to pace things between them.

 

As soon as Therese finished her words, Carol moved closer to her, gently moving Therese until her back just barely touched the railing of the elevator. She pushed her body forward into her so that every part of their fronts touched, from their breasts down to their thighs, and Carol stepped her left foot between Therese’s legs and pushed herself ever so slightly forward into her until she knew Therese could just feel a whisper of her thigh against her. She let the top of her finger trace the bare skin at the edge of where her coat met her chest, and let her lips trace along Therese’s neck lightly before stopping midway to give it a gentle bite before they continued their journey upward, her lips just barely touching Therese’s ear.

 

“Absolutely not. There is no way I’ll be able to stop myself from touching you, and I know where that will lead,” Carol whispered. She pressed her forehead to Therese’s and let out a ragged breath.

 

Therese felt as if she might collapse if Carol moved the support of her body away from her, just dissolve into a loose pile of clothes, limbs, and what was left of her sanity with a cloud of desire and longing rising from the ashes. Perhaps if she did, Carol would get a drift of it and take mercy on her, gather her vaporized essence and collect it. She was still sandwiched gently between the elevator wall and Carol when they heard a ding. It couldn’t possibly be at 17 yet - and it wasn’t. As Carol backed away from Therese but never once breaking eye contact with a cocky smile on her face, two young men got on the elevator on the 13th floor. They said hello to both Carol and Therese and continued a conversation about whether it was worth it to bother learning to play chess. Carol had moved to the middle of the back of the elevator, looking like a statue of Aphrodite, poised and regal. She appeared to be as calm as if she had been meditating, no glimpse of the breathlessness she had just been experiencing. Therese was staring at her and eventually, when Carol finally turned to face her, her eyes could have incinerated her, set the entire elevator ablaze - her, Carol, the aspiring chessmen - her entire calm exterior, her still features, her pleasant but unaffected smile, her even breathing - it was all just a shell that contained what was burning inside her. Therese held strong under Carol’s penetrating gaze and only turned when the elevator dinged at 17. The men split apart for Therese to walk out between them, and as she looked back once she stepped into the hallway, she turned around to see the elevator doors just beginning to close, squeezing in on the two men, who served as unremarkable pillars, something bland and innocuous, to flank the image of the woman she adored watching her with eyes that expressed the deepest longing she had ever seen, and she could only recognize it now because she was feeling it herself, for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what's on your mind, friends.


	33. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, my lovely friends. After much thought, I've decided that this will be the last chapter of 'Awaken Me'. What a wonderful journey this has been - in just under a month, I've been able to connect with so many people who share a love of reading, writing, and of course, Carol. All your comments and endless, generous encouragement made this not only easy but a complete joy to write. I'm so happy I took the chance on putting it out there, and I hope you have all enjoyed the journey. We'll set Lily's Carol and Therese off into the sunset today, off into a sea of tumult and obstacles, but armed with a powerful love for one another.
> 
> This chapter goes into minute, painstaking detail. Hopefully it doesn't border on tedium... but you know, you can deal with it.
> 
> Oh and, by the way, this is NSFW. I would know, because I wrote it at work. (HUGE mistake.)

_When the rain is blowing in your face_

_And the whole world is on your case_

_I could offer you a warm embrace_

_To make you feel my love_

 

_When the evening shadows and the stars appear_

_And there is no one there to dry your tears_

_I will hold you for a million years_

_To make you feel my love_

 

_I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue_

_And I'd go crawling down the avenue_

_No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do_

_To make you feel my love_

 

_The storms are raging on the rolling sea_

_And on the highway of regret_

_The winds of change are blowing wild and free_

_You ain't seen nothing like me yet_

 

_I could make you happy, make your dreams come true_

_There's nothing that I wouldn't do_

_Go to the ends of this Earth for you_

_To make you feel my love_

 

-Bob Dylan

 

Therese opened the door to the apartment and kicked her shoes off carelessly. She flicked on the light and sighed deeply. There was her array of shoes by the door, the coffee mug she had left on the counter still sitting there silently, and the infamous cardigan still laying pathetically on the couch, flattened by her and Carol’s long embrace. They were the ordinary things that she had used and let rest, put on and took off, filled and emptied. An endless cycle. Just this morning she had been thinking about the repetitiveness of hand washing that mug, wanting to use the same one despite Noelle and Dylan having a dishwasher - and more than one mug. But now she felt as if everything were alive, everything served a purpose. Her body was still singing from her encounter with Carol in the elevator.

 

She dumped the bit of coffee left in that favorite mug down the drain, noticing the ring of stubborn brown inside the cup, a reminder that even though it had been left and abandoned, some of it still would hold on. She smiled as she cleaned it, putting water on the stove for tea. When she sat on the couch, she wrapped her hands around the warm cup and let the soothing hot liquid rush down into her, spreading and diffusing. The feeling made her acutely aware of her body and its lively response to even just this fairly innocuous stimulus. She wanted to get inside it even deeper, allow her brain to cede to the physicality. _Carol._ She wanted to share this feeling with her. She wanted Carol to touch this feeling inside her, to feel how her love could envelop her.

 

She put the mug down and rested her hands on her thighs, her feet up against the edge of the coffee table. She let her eyes drift out of focus, giving her brain the energy it needed to tell her muscles to move. She stood up and walked to the kitchen as if in a trance and picked up her keys. As she made her way towards the door, she started to feel her heart beating stronger, faster, pushing more blood all the way up into ears so that she felt as if she could almost hear it, a deafening effect that allowed her to remove at least one of her senses from the overwhelming chaos of what she felt at the present moment. Its pounding drowned out whatever voice in her head may argue with her about the prudence of her next actions. She pulled the door closed behind her and looked at the number as she slowly locked the deadbolt. _1723_. This number would be burned into her mind. In a matter of weeks, 1723 had become the number that would signify the place that she experienced the moments that would define the turning point in her life. They would demarcate the “before” and “after”. And Carol stood in between those words, elegantly weaving them together into one beautiful mural that would paint in all the colors of fear, anger, elation, and release that had made up their time together. And brushed on top, with the finest detail yet somehow the least definable, would be her love for her.

 

When she got into the elevator, she let the doors close before she even looked at the button panel, instead staring straight ahead into the back of the elevator, looking at that railing where Carol had stood so many times looking like a goddess, had leaned back on when Therese first saw her divine wet figure dripping from the rain, even her clothes trying to follow her body as closely as possible, and where just a few moments ago Carol had pressed her up against it, moving into her to let her know how much she desired her. Finally, she turned and pressed 23 with the gentlest of touches, barely sure whether it was enough force to make the button light up. But it did, and as always, the elevator gave the small lurch that let her know that she was, indeed, going up. The digital display seemed to take eons, lingering unnecessarily on the meaningless numbers that separated her from Carol. When it reached 23, she stepped out and turned the corner to walk down that long hallway, not feeling a shred of concern or doubt, not feeling anything like she had the last time Carol had walked behind her in the hallway downstairs, feeling as if she were heading to the execution room; instead, she felt like a mortal walking towards the site of her first encounter with the spirituality she had always assumed was nonexistent.

 

She knocked on the door softly and heard clicking footsteps approaching. When Carol opened the door, Therese saw that she was still in her outfit from the evening, even down to the boots. Her purse sat on the kitchen counter, but the apartment looked otherwise untouched, like Carol had barely moved since she came home.

 

There was no surprise in Carol’s face when she met Therese’s eyes, instead a pleading, a prayer she hoped Therese would not only see but understand without her having to explain. She took a deep breath and turned away from Therese, looking back once over her shoulder as she walked towards her bedroom. Therese followed, putting her things on the kitchen counter next to Carol’s. When she walked into Carol’s bedroom, she felt as if she were being wrapped in a cocoon, finally entering a space where she could peacefully focus on her transformation.

 

Carol stopped several feet before the bed, still turned away from Therese. Therese walked up slowly behind her until she was not quite touching her, but so close that whatever narrow aura of energy, whatever lightly vibrating atoms created an impossibly thin layer of sensation above their skin, were bouncing excitedly against each other.

 

* * *

 

Carol was standing, waiting, her eyes closed, her entire body flushed just from the feeling of Therese so near. She suddenly felt a single finger trace along her shoulder, from the outside tip towards her neck, making the slightest rounded turn downward just before reaching the center of her neck, the finger trailing slowly down her spine. She felt as if that small finger set off a tiny grenade in every vertebra, the nerves surrounding each one too stimulated to remain intact. The finger floated away once it reached the level of her hips, and there was a torturous moment with no contact until she felt both hands land on her sides, just below her underarms, then work their way down to rest on her hips, there giving a firmer squeeze. Carol couldn’t stand it any longer, she pushed herself backwards until her ass met Therese’s front and started moving, trying to close as much distance between them as possible and begin to feel Therese’s body against hers. Therese backed away just a bit, and moved one of her hands to trail down Carol’s neck, pulling her hair gently back. She stood on her tiptoes to whisper into Carol’s ear.

 

“Let me love you.”

 

Therese pulled Carol’s hips in one direction to spin her around slowly to face her, again standing on tiptoe to press her lips to Carol’s, only this time their gentle contact turned into something more frenzied, Carol unable to stop herself from penetrating Therese’s mouth with her tongue. Therese accepted it hungrily, both of them basking in the eroticism of the wet contact. Carol was lost in the sensation, her eyes closed, when she felt Therese’s hands grasp her arms and push them both towards the bed. When Carol felt the edge of it against her legs, she put her hands on the bed to lift herself onto it, then rested her weight on her hands behind her. Therese remained standing for a moment, then descended to her knees. She placed both hands on Carol’s calf, then used one to unzip her boot and pull it off. She did the same with the other, placing Carol’s foot gently back down on the floor. Both her hands went back to work sliding against her calves, and her mouth followed, laying gentle kisses along her leg, all the way up past the inside of her knee until they met the skin halfway up her inner thigh, at which point Carol opened her eyes to see Therese looking directly at her. Carol resisted the urge to pull Therese’s head back against the delicate skin she had just abandoned, and instead ran her nails through one side of Therese’s hair and met her eye with a gaze she hoped would communicate how she felt. Although she knew Therese understood, she needed to say it aloud, for Therese, for herself.

 

“I love you.”

 

* * *

 

Therese felt her heart fill with all the things she never could have imagined getting inside her - the admiration, pride, lust, and love she felt for this woman now in such abundance that it could burst and flow profusely out of her. She looked up at Carol and laid her hand on top of hers, leaning her face into it.

 

“I love you too.”

 

Therese stood, her legs walking up until they hit the bed, one between Carol’s. As she placed her hands on either side of Carol and began leaning down, Carol started to recline slowly as if on automatic response, the force that pulled Therese forward being received and strengthened as she did so. They spent a moment in parallel, diagonal tension, until Carol finally let herself fall onto her back on the bed. Therese pushed her entire body into her as she laid on top of her, her thigh now able to make contact with Carol’s center, the broad, indirect touch causing a pool of warmth to be spread from her epicenter begging for attention.

 

When Therese’s face finally came close to Carol’s, she tilted it to nuzzle into the space where Carol’s jaw met her neck, letting her lips run down her neck, ending with a gentle kiss on the collarbone. She licked her way back up, then slid her hands down to Carol’s waist and let them wander up her bare stomach, pulling the sweater up with them. It acquiesced easily, bunching up until it hit the resistance of the bottom of the curve of Carol’s breasts, and Therese pushed right past, giving them a gentle caress as the tips of her thumbs slid across them. She pulled at the sweater as Carol lifted her body little by little to allow it to work its way underneath her and off, the collar of the sweater lifting her hair and leaving it in a trail behind her head, blonde curls draped elegantly against the bed.

 

Therese held herself up on her elbow and let that hand rest against Carol’s hair as she trailed the other back down, her fingertips sliding against Carol’s face, down her neck, and drawing an invisible line between her breasts all the way to the top hemline of her skirt. She snaked her finger just underneath it and ran it along the length of the hem teasingly before moving her hand back up to Carol’s breast, squeezing it gently to revel in the womanly fullness of it. Carol responded by lifting her head slightly off the bed, her mouth reaching Therese’s cheek and breathing against it, wanting Therese to lay every part of her against her. Therese didn’t give in yet, instead sitting herself up and pushing off her knee to get completely off the bed, leaning down to kiss Carol’s thigh, pushing her skirt up and she moved, until she reached her center, pressing her lips firmly into where she knew Carol would feel it most intensely, the thin layer of her tights between Carol’s skin and her lips a cruel barrier. Therese carefully pulled down the zipper on the side of Carol’s skirt, then pulled the skirt and tights off together, unable to deny herself the pleasure of seeing Carol’s bare legs a moment longer. Once Carol was free of her outer garments, lying supine on the bed in her bra and panties, Therese realized she was still dressed. She lifted her deep purple sweater over her head, then unbuttoned her pants as she looked into Carol’s eyes. Carol's tongue suddenly appeared to lick her own lips, her teeth biting down gently on her full lower lip. When Therese had shed herself of everything except what Carol was also wearing, she carefully laid back on top of Carol, letting the unbearably tense space between them be squeezed out, up, to the sides, the intensity of the attraction of their bodies now strong enough to easily overcome any other force.

 

When Carol felt Therese finally on her, her breasts pressed against her own, their bare stomachs in full contact, and Therese’s thigh now between her legs carrying Therese’s full weight behind it, Carol’s hips involuntarily raised of the bed slightly, silently begging Therese to push into her harder. Instead, Therese sat up to take off her own bra, but as soon as it was unclasped and she moved to pull it off her shoulders, Carol raised her hands up to Therese’s and stopped them. Carol gently hooked her fingers under the straps and pulled it off Therese, letting it dangle off one finger momentarily before flinging it off the side of the bed. Her hands immediately found Therese’s bare breasts, wanting to feel their weight pushing against her hands as Therese leaned back down. Carol contracted to lift her back off the bed, letting Therese reach behind her to unclasp her bra as Carol was at perfect height to kiss the spot between Therese’s breasts, then along the curved side of each, until she felt Therese pulling her bra off and urging Carol to lay back down. She stopped to look into Carol’s eyes, keeping eye contact until she was distracted by the movement of Carol’s undulating hips beneath her, again begging for Therese’s body to stop them, to free them of this misery of anticipation. Therese gave Carol what she wanted this time, laying down again so that they were pressed together. She began to move her body in slow, swaying, but forceful motions, sliding up and down so that Carol could feel Therese’s erect nipples not only against her own, but also against the more delicate skin of her breasts around it. Her thigh met Carol’s center rhythmically, eliciting a small jerky movement from Carol every time she hit it. Carol opened her eyes and faced Therese’s, freely and unafraid. She left nothing out, nothing in the way for Therese to have to dig through to find her. She let everything she was feeling float to the surface, not wanting Therese to have to search her eyes for those things that she had kept so far down their well for so long. In this moment, already laid bare in every way, she gave Therese the permission to take the last thing she had that she hadn’t shared with her yet.

 

“Take me, Therese.”

 

Therese responded with a deep, long kiss, then slowly and ever-so-gently raked her nails just lightly down along the front of Carol’s body until her hand rested outside Carol’s panties. She let her fingers work their way inside them and slid her hand down, her fingers split into a “v” as her middle finger ran along one of Carol’s labia and her ring finger along the other, creating a void of need between them. Therese moved her fingers with slight pressure, then lifted her head to look into Carol’s eyes.

 

“Tell me what you want.”

 

Carol kept her eyes locked on Therese as she reached down into her own panties and placed her hand on top of Therese’s. She used Therese’s middle finger to press against her most sensitive spot, the spot to the left of her clit that she had only used her own fingers to explore. She wanted Therese to feel her, she wanted to let her into the deepest spaces of her pleasure. As she showed Therese how to touch her, she began to push up into Therese’s hand more forcefully, letting Therese take over as she pulled her hand back out of her own panties. Carol began to let out small cries, already feeling her release approaching. She found Therese’s hand again and held it firmly, stopping its slow but persistent movement. She wanted - _needed_ \- more.

 

She moved Therese’s fingertips down to her opening, and Therese immediately closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath as she felt the liquid manifestation of Carol’s lust already bathing them. Therese let out a breathy cry, unable to stop a few small words from tumbling out of her mouth.

 

“Oh god, Carol.”

 

Carol pushed two of Therese’s fingers into her and began moving her hips, encouraging Therese to take control. Carol shivered at the feeling of her most intimate place, where she had let no one enter for so long, being touched and stroked by someone she truly loved. Therese moved in and out, able to feel Carol’s complete openness spread before her like an endless sea that would receive her and deliver her desire over and over.

 

Therese slowed to almost a stop, causing Carol to open her eyes and look down at Therese, for a moment flashing a look of fear at what could have changed. Therese ran the two fingers dripping with Carol’s arousal up a straight line along her mound, her stomach, and finally between her breasts, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. As she moved herself up to be face-to-face with Carol, she ran her tongue along the wet trail, delighting in the taste of her. She met Carol’s lips and they gave into a passionate kiss, letting their tongues massage one another until Carol began rubbing her clit along Therese’s hipbone, unable to delay what her body needed more than it needed oxygen.

 

Therese broke their kiss and looked into Carol’s eyes again.

 

“I need to taste you.”

 

Carol let out a heavy breath.

 

“Please.” She let her eyes close as her hands found their way into Therese’s hair. “Please.”

 

Therese let her open mouth glide back down the same path she had just traversed up, still paved with the mixture of Carol’s wetness and Therese’s saliva. When she reached the edge of the light hair of Carol’s sex, she let her tongue slide across its edge, then allowed her hands the pleasure of pulling Carol’s panties, heavy with the scent of her arousal off of her, revealing Carol’s glistening folds. Therese stripped her own panties off, not wanting to impede anything else, not wanting to have to delay the feeling of Carol’s bare skin on hers when their cores met again. Therese stared at her hungrily, never having had such an overpowering urge to let all her senses be enveloped by one thing. She wanted to taste her, smell her, see every part of her. She wanted to hear the way Carol moaned at her touch. Therese finally gave in to her own desire and licked her way down one of Carol’s labia until her tongue rested at the bottom of her entrance. She could taste the tangy sweetness of Carol’s wetness that had already seeped out, but refrained from licking inside her yet. She traced her tongue up carefully along each fold, stopping to suck on each for a moment; a tease of what she would eventually do to the place Carol wanted her most. She then moved on to her inner labia, loving each one with her tongue, getting closer and closer to what she was dying to taste. Carol was writhing painfully beneath her, but her hands remained against the bed, not tangling in Therese’s hair or pushing her deeper, not wanting to take any control when she felt so safe letting Therese take her and lay her bare, completely out of control, allowing her to truly pleasure her.

 

After only a few short moments, Carol could no longer bear the pressure of the tension that Therese kept pushing into a smaller and smaller space. She was sure that even with only this stimulation, she would come within minutes. But she needed Therese to reach her most intimate places. She was dying for it. As if on cue, Therese finally let her tongue push its way into her entrance, and Carol could feel her muscles contract, involuntarily trying to pull Therese deeper into her. Therese was rewarded with the taste of Carol’s desire streaming into her mouth, now having an escape route and the irresistible destination of Therese’s tongue.

 

As Therese finally licked her way up to Carol’s clit, she let her tongue lay out flat and softly gave Carol’s entire clit a slow swipe. She then turned her attention to where Carol had just before directed her, the place where Therese knew would be where she would find Carol’s ultimate undoing. She let her tongue stiffen slightly as she traced the left side of Carol’s clit back and forth, then sucked it gently into her mouth from that angle. After a only a few sucks, Carol let out a quiet but guttural cry, her body paralyzed, frozen for a long instant under Therese’s tongue. She felt everything within her burst, the ever expanding bubble of lust that had been inflating painfully inside her finally breaking, pouring her desire all over her, all over Therese. When she began to come back to reality, her body convulsed violently every few seconds as she felt each cascade of pleasure slowly riding away, each a wave of diminishing power and height, but floating on elegantly into the calm sea of satisfied love she had always longed to swim in.

 

Carol couldn’t move for a moment, letting herself calm her breathing as the minute, uncontrollable movements of Therese’s tongue still lovingly wrapped around her clit gave her tiny shocks of the force of arousal that was still inside her, flowing its way out to completion.

 

* * *

 

When Carol finally opened her eyes, she lifted her head and looked straight at Therese.

 

“Come up here.” Her voice was still breathy with want.

 

Therese shimmied up, their bodies creating a mixture of resistance and ease; Therese’s skin ran fluidly, gliding along Carol’s still wet and sensitive sex, but met resistance at certain points above her waist where Therese’s saliva still lingered. When Therese reached Carol’s mouth, she immediately used her tongue to enter her, wanting Carol to taste her own wet desire, to taste what Therese had been luxuriating in for the past several minutes. It was a part of Carol they could share, which is what Therese sought most, what she had been yearning for for so long.

 

Carol ran her thumb along the space just below Therese’s lips, where Carol’s drenched entrance had been making contact with Therese’s face as she had brought Carol to her final climax. She wiped some of the wetness off, admiring the look of calm mixed with longing on Therese’s face, her clear elation at having finally swam in everything inside Carol, everything that made her the person she was.

 

Carol pushed Therese so that they were both laying on their sides, facing one another. Carol ran her fingers along Therese’s cheek, allowing herself to give in completely to what wanted to burst out of her - a wide, uninhibited smile that Therese looked at with adoration, tilting her head a bit as if to try to see a slightly different view of this wondrous sight, to take in Carol’s happiness from every angle.

 

“You’re beautiful.” Therese spoke quietly, her face serious. Carol could feel tears begin to crawl their way up to her eyes, a feeling she was becoming increasingly used to since Therese came into her life. She knew Therese was making no allusion to her face, her body, or the way she moved. Therese was seeing that thing inside her, the person capable of giving love and receiving love, the woman who felt she deserved love. And with Therese, she could be that person, giving herself freely despite the feeling that she was hurling herself off a cliff which had no visible destination beneath it - she could land in water, swathed by this love she felt, or she could reach some disastrous end that would break off another piece of her heart. But for once, she had no qualms about jumping.

 

As she looked at Therese, she felt her arousal growing again, but she didn’t want to take her, to fuck her, to possess her. She wanted to convey something gently, carefully, with sacredness. She wanted to worship her. She wanted to make love to her. To make Therese feel her love.

 

She ran the back of her fingers along the curve of Therese’s shoulder and let them trail their way down, showing no hesitation at the points where her body wound - where the swell of her breast made a gentle slope, where the smooth valley of her waist dipped, or where her hip created a round but massive curve, the apex of the heavenly landscape of the female body. As she touched Therese, she realized that everything - Harge, all her conquests, all the people who knew her as someone else, everyone and everything she had come to resent - she saw that she herself had played a part in their complicated view of her. They could only respond to the woman she showed them, the persona she had created. If she could hide herself, she could protect her real self - she could avoid feeling unloved for who she really was, preferring to feel hated because of who she really wasn’t. The way she felt now, this person she had let emerge, she knew could find its way into the light and show itself little by little. It would take time, but this love, this angelic creature in front of her, made her sure it was possible.

 

She moved herself closer to Therese, wrapping their bodies together much as closely as they had on the couch, but this time feeling the warmth and smoothness of their skin against one another. She wanted desperately to devour Therese, but she forced herself to take her time, to relish the parts of this act that were simply emotional, erotic but not explicit - the feel of Therese’s skin under her hands, the feeling of Therese’s wetness spread along Carol’s lower stomach as she rolled on top of her, the way it felt running her tongue along the insides of Therese’s mouth. She could reach down and touch Therese, claim her with her fingers, give into the anticipation of fucking the girl she loved, but she wanted to differentiate this from all the times she had had an sordid encounter with a woman. After fifteen years of fucking, she wanted to do something else, do something she rarely did. She took her time holding and grinding against Therese, feeling her own wetness pool out again, mixing with Therese’s, creating a sensuous lubricant for them both to move against, to slide into one another. Carol finally moved her lips off Therese’s and laid her head next to hers so that their cheeks touched. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but she knew there was something she needed to ask. As difficult as it was for Carol to open up, and as easy as it had appeared for Therese to accept her love, she wanted to be sure she wasn’t taking something from Therese that wasn’t hers to take. She had taken so much, from so many people, and she needed to hear Therese tell her that she _wanted_ to give it to her.

 

“Can I make love to you?” Carol kept her face to the side of Therese’s, for some reason feeling terrified. She was asking permission, something she had dismissed as a weakness long ago. She was risking someone saying “no” to her, and as unlikely as she knew it was that Therese would refuse her now, she still felt the gravity of the moment with a little fear.

 

Therese pulled Carol’s face up gently so that Carol had to meet her eyes.

 

“There’s nothing I want more.”

 

Carol leaned in so that her nose pressed against Therese’s cheek, their eyes too close to even see one another clearly. She breathed out a sigh of relief, joy, and overflowing arousal. She descended down Therese’s body, her hands stopping to admire every curve, her mouth lingering to lick and bite places she hadn’t touched yet. As she gently ran her hands from Therese’s knees up the insides of her thighs, she looked up to see Therese’s eyes closed, her head turned to the side. Carol stopped and felt the need to speak again.

 

“Therese.”

 

Therese looked at her, still unable to speak due to the intensity of her breathing. Carol kept her fingers running up and down her thighs and spoke softly.

 

“I want to give you everything you want, the way you want it. Don’t be afraid to tell me how to please you or to stop if I’m being too rough.”

 

Therese gathered the composure to answer her.

 

“Carol. Don’t worry. I trust you.”

 

Carol took a deep breath, feeling something she had forgotten she was capable of - nervousness. She was, for the first time in a long time, worried about the satisfaction of who she was with. She wanted to make Therese feel special - like Carol’s body, Carol’s tongue, everything in her existed only to bring Therese pleasure.

 

When Carol finally lowered her head towards Therese’s center, she simply waited, millimeters from her skin, and breathed in deeply. This woman, her scent, the way her beautiful sex lay open and wet in front of her - she wanted it to crawl inside her, to take up permanent residence in her memory, and to have that memory be the one she called on whenever she touched herself, whenever she pleasured herself the way she liked. She wanted that most intimate act to marry itself to Therese alone instead of to some wanton encounter from her meaningless past.

 

Carol moved her face forward until her nose met Therese’s folds. She let her nose travel up along Therese and followed the light touch it provided with her pointed tongue, wanting to create as narrow a strip of arousal as possible before she gave Therese all of what she intended. Carol let just her fingertips slide inside Therese, almost entering her on their own due to Therese’s ample wetness. As she pressed her fingers along the walls just inside Therese’s entrance, she heard a sound escape Therese’s mouth. She turned her fingers up and rubbed her fingers firmly against her inner wall, stopping occasionally just to hold pressure there, waiting until Therese gyrated her hips up and down to try to get Carol to move them again. When Carol finally moved up to Therese’s clit, she closed her mouth and instead of using her tongue, placed a firm kiss directly on it, her full lips providing a loving but lush and strangely explicit pillow for the center of Therese’s pleasure.

 

The unexpected sensation of Carol’s lips made Therese almost jump, and Carol held her down on the bed with a firm hand on her lower abdomen, helping Therese brace herself for when Carol’s tongue finally parted her lips and began its feather-light journey across and around her clit. Carol was surprised to hear a loud moan escape Therese’s lips, and Carol felt her own clit throbbing again, as if it had not just been sated. She could feel her own wetness dripping down the inside of her thigh, her desire for this woman seemingly endless. She moaned, sending the vibration through Therese, wanting her to know how much Carol wanted her, how much ecstasy she felt just loving Therese this way. Carol’s moan seemed to set something off in Therese, like a bell ringing so loudly and ferociously that it reverberated, sending strong vibrations through the air around it. Therese panted, trying several times to speak until she finally pushed air out in enough of a controlled manner to form words.

 

“Carol, I’m… I…” She couldn’t say anything else. She started shaking, making it a challenge for Carol to keep her mouth on her, but she was determined to keep Therese connected, giving her the full benefit of her mouth throughout her release - hugging her, caressing her, kissing her, wrapping her in her limitless love.

 

* * *

 

Therese watched one of Carol’s blonde curls fall lightly off her neck, bringing itself to rest on her pillow. She moved in closer to Carol’s back, close enough to breathe in the heady combination of sweat and perfume that permeated her hair.

 

“Are you asleep?” Therese smiled at herself for saying the words, partly hoping she would be met with silence so she could feel Carol’s peaceful, even breathing against her and know she was relaxed. But she also hoped that perhaps she would hear that beautiful, sonorous voice one more time before she succumbed to her own sleep.

 

Carol turned, trying to keep herself wrapped in Therese’s arms as she moved slowly, carefully. When she arrived, her face inches from Therese’s, she brushed her hand along Therese’s cheek and into her hair. She moved forward to let her lips touch Therese’s, their mating and parting not making a sound.

 

“No, my love. I’m awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always feel free to share your thoughts. You've all been seriously rad.
> 
> Stay awesome.
> 
> Lily
> 
>  
> 
> I know I will start another story at some point, maybe we could pick up these characters again as they move into the next phase. Or, maybe I'll cook up a new Carol and Therese. :) Any ideas/requests? That may be a good place to start, to get some inspiration from you, my lovely readers.


	34. Next Up

Come continue the journey in "Lucid Dreams".  
xo Lily

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hello Dear Friends,

I've had a weekend to think about this now, and I think I am going to continue this story in some way, shape, or form. I think one of the reasons I felt this story should come to a close is that, as the title says, my endgame was always Carol and Therese's "Awakening," which I think has been achieved here with their admission of love (finally) and the physical consummation of their relationship.

That being said, there are a lot of loose ends that may be interesting to explore, especially as our girls enter what is undoubtedly a very new and unfamiliar phase of their lives. I might start a new work and make it part of a series. We would keep the same characters and modern AU, but other minor things may change a bit just to give me a little more creative space. For example, 'Awaken Me' (Part I!) was quite serious. As you progress in a relationship, the familiarity allows for a little more fun, I think. I say that now, but we could end up with things very much the same (serious and angsty and intense). If things don't flow, I won't force this second part. I don't want to ruin the positive experience we've created so far. Of course, I'll need your thoughts and input along the way. :)

As we are about to begin a new project cycle at work, I may have less time to write, so I doubt I will be able to update everyday. Of course, we'll see, since I find it hard to stay away for very long (as evidenced by the fact that I am back three days after finishing this fic). Ah, me and my addictive personality.

Look out for the first chapter soon. I'll update this note when it is posted so you know where to find it.

Always feel free to tell me your thoughts and ideas, or even just how your day is going. :)

xo  
Lily


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